Background Music
by wynnie the pooh
Summary: Blaine and Kurt are in separate cities, living separate lives. And when they collide, there's nothing they can do to stop falling deep into something they would never have suspected.
1. Prologue

**Okay, so I guess I have to say a few things before we start :D This is my very first AU multi-chaptered Klaine fiction, and I hope that I keep it up long enough to finish the darn thing :P Keep on my back, please :D Send me PMs reminding me to post! So, this is just a short chapter and a summary for you today, so you can get a taste of what will be going on over the course of this story. And I hope you all enjoy it a lot :D**

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong>

Blaine is living in LA with a girl, writing songs for a living and watching as other people sing them. Kurt i in New York City where his vocal talents go unappreciated by the directors on Broadway.

But when Kurt gets cast as the lead in a new show that Blaine has been working on, their lives collide in a way they haven't since high school.

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><p><strong>BACKGROUND MUSIC<strong>

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><p><strong>Prologue: The Parting<strong>

The airport was crowded and stifling. There was a heat in the air, the muggy feeling that was expected for late summer in Ohio. The hand that Kurt had slipped into Blaine's was becoming quickly slick with sweat and he stretched his fingers to try to let the air pass through.

But not only was the heat stifling, the crowd weighed down around him too. It was that time of year when college students left for their respective universities and the airport struggled to accommodate the mass of foot traffic that filled the area. It was like a wall of sound, a wall of bodies, a wall of flesh and bones and voices.

'Kurt.' Blaine's voice was warm in his ear, the displacement of air from his breath momentarily cooling the skin of Kurt's neck.

'Mm?' the younger boy hummed in response, squeezing his boyfriend's hand tighter.

'This is it.' There was a sadness tinged in that voice, curling like tendrils around the soft tenor tone. Kurt wasn't sure if he liked it at all, but they were here now and everything had been arranged. There was nothing he could do.

'Are you sure about this?' he asked, coming to a stop just before the terminal. He dropped his carry on beside his leg and used his now free hand to trace the line of Blaine's collar.

'No,' the older boy said. 'But you are. You need to do this, Kurt. This is your dream.'

He knew it was the truth. Blaine had a poignant way of saying things, where all that was ever spoken aloud was truth, and that was all there was to it. Kurt bit his lip, trying to hold back the hard knot that was growing in his throat.

'Trust me, Kurt.' Blaine ran his thumb down Kurt's jaw, a gesture that sent shivers up Kurt's spine. It was an intimate gesture, almost too intimate for the crowded airport and Kurt pulled away with the slightest shake of his head.

'I do trust you, Blaine. Except I'm going to be in New York. Without you.'

A shadow of a smile crossed the older boys face. 'I can look after myself. And I'll be going to LA in three weeks and I'll be just as run off my feet as you.'

The words were spoken softly into Blaine's ear. 'I'll never stop thinking about you.'

And it was bliss to him to hear them spoken, even in that breathy tone that barely tickled his eardrum. 'I'll never stop loving you,' he replied.

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><p><strong>So I really hope you like this :D And trust me, the next chapter will be very different. We'll actually get into the plot outlined in the summary up yonder :D Please review, tell me what you think, any ideas or opinions you may have. I'd be happy to hear about them :D<strong>

**xx Wynnie**


	2. Chapter One: Second String

**Okay, so this is the first real chapter. I hope it makes logical sense and all that jazz and that people are not too disappointed with the way I made their future lives :D Oh, and I know I mentioned to some people that I would explain how Blaine was living with a girl in this chapter, but I don't really think I have... sorry :D I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Second String<strong>

The train rumbled to a quick stop and Blaine Anderson stood up, straightening his suit jacket and grabbing his briefcase and laptop that had rested beside his knee during the journey.

Bodies crushed against each other in their rush to reach the door and Blaine waited, letting them disperse before stepping out of the train and onto the platform. He always waited. It was something he had done since he first arrived here in LA, and he'd never found a reason to change. Sometimes, people would give him sideways glances, as if to wonder why he would be courteous to other people in the car. But it was how Blaine was, and there was no way he would change just to avoid the stares.

He climbed the stairs into the station and looked around himself. This was another thing he did every morning when he arrived here. It was like he had to breathe the city in and experience it before moving on to the important job he played in the music industry.

_Yeah, right._

He bit his lip and kept walking, closing his eyes for a second to push the thought from his mind.

_I love my job. I love my job. I _love _my job._

But he couldn't even believe himself. Not when he was spending every day like this.

A burst of fresh air hit his face and he opened his eyes onto the city of LA, where summer reigned predominantly, and no one understood quite what it was like to be normal. The land of Hollywood, and Disneyland, and one too many buskers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man who he recognized as Spiderman, even though they had failed to make sure the suit was actually blue and red. It was an odd shade of purple and orange. Perhaps the colour had run in the wash? On his other side, Blaine saw a man covered in silver paint attempting to walk the robot along the sidewalk, his feet shuffling against the concrete.

'Blaine!' a voice called. 'Blaine Anderson!' A man waved from a dark car parked on the opposite side of the road. Blaine bit down on his lip again in something almost like annoyance, but changed his grip on his briefcase and darted expertly across the road, dodging the traffic.

'Blaine, buddy,' the man said jovially, sliding into the backseat. 'How're you doing? That gay thing still working out for you? My girlfriend swears I'm getting a boy crush on you, the amount of times I rave about that talent of yours.'

'Thanks, Marcus,' he said through gritted teeth.

'No problem, my friend. I love telling people about you. You're amazing, you know that?'

'You tell me so every day.' Blaine tried to keep his voice peppy, but he could hear the hint of sarcasm that loomed behind it. 'You still don't let me sing the songs,' he whispered to himself. 'You'd still rather the plastic clones get all the credit while I do all the real work.'

Blaine knew he was bitter. That was something no one else had to tell him. He hated his job, writing songs for "singers" while struggling to work on his own broadway ideas and getting somewhere in the music business. From the day he left Ohio for LA, he had been sure that he'd be able to break into the business. He had been one of the star singers for some of the best Glee clubs in the area, but in the big city, Glee clubs didn't seem to matter. It was all about how "sellable" you were, not how talented. And it made Blaine angry that the most he was becoming in this world was a name printed in tiny writing on the inside of a CD booklet.

'So, tell me, Mr Anderson,' Marcus said with a toothy grin, lifting his briefcase onto his lap. 'How's this play going that you've been working on?'

Blaine's eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn't ever tell anyone about his play. It was something personal, an achievement he hoped to keep to himself until the opportunity arose to make it a proper reality.

'What are you talking about, Marcus?' he asked.

'You know. Background Music. That's what you're calling it, right? That play that I always see you working on while I'm in the studio with the artists. That's where your real passion is, isn't it?'

_No, _Blaine felt like saying. _My real passion is _singing. _This is just the best I can get without you grinding it into the floor too, without you stealing every bit of comfort I once had._

'Yes,' he said softly instead.

'Well,' Marcus said slowly, raising the last syllable in an attempt to build the tension. 'I've got the company to agree to produce it!'

And Blaine felt like he was falling through the floor.

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><p>'Yes, I understand. Thank you for your time. Sure, I'll audition for the next show. Thank you again. Bye.'<p>

Kurt Hummel placed the phone back into the cradle and let out an audible sigh. The silent room echoed back at him, bare and desolate. He let his knees collapse beneath him and sat down on the sofa, running his thumb along his forehead. He could feel the headache building there, coursing in the veins below the skin.

He hated New York. That was all there was to it. He hated that it was the city that never slept, because getting a night of uninterrupted sleep was like finding the Holy Grail. He hated that no one understand the meaning of the term "privacy". He hated that he was always under appreciated for his talents. He knew there were roles on Broadway _needing _of a countertenor, but no one was willing to take the risk on such a flamboyant gay when there were other men who had an okay falsetto that could pull off the parts. And if worse came to worse, they could always cast a female actor in the role.

It was just so frustrating though, that even though he had these bucketfuls of talented, no one wanted a part in it. He'd moved to New York with Rachel Berry after graduating from high school and where she had been accepted into every role she auditioned for, Kurt was pushed into the background, vying even for parts in the chorus. It was like the first Warblers audition all over again. He was too big, too alive, to play any of the parts they wanted him for. And so he suffered.

'Kurt?' the voice that called out was gentle and soft and he sighed in relief, turning around on the sofa.

'Hey,' he replied. 'How was your day?'

The man stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him, and dropped his briefcase at the door. Hanging his coat on the hook he shook his head, letting the curls land naturally around his face and stepped across to the sofa, laying his hands on Kurt's shoulders. 'My day was great, how about you? Any calls?'

Kurt nodded, biting his lip. 'Yeah. The casting director called and told me he wasn't interested.' He leaned his head back, looking into his boyfriend's eyes. 'Thanks anyway.'

'No problem.'

Kurt knew Ethan was only trying to be nice, but he sometimes wished that he wouldn't ask about the auditions. They surely had to be at the stage that no news meant bad news. Asking only made it worse in Kurt's opinion, and sometimes being silent was what he needed.

Ethan leaned down to press a kiss against his lips, but Kurt turned his head, pushing the younger man away. 'Sorry, Ethan. I'm just not interested tonight.' He stood up, walking over to the kitchenette, and pulled a tub of ice cream out of the freezer. The spoon was still sticking out of the top and he took a mouthful in silence.

'Oh, come on, Kurt,' Ethan complained, stepping towards him again and trying to wrap his arms around the man's waist. 'I'm not that annoying am I?'

'As a matter of fact, yes,' Kurt said, but there was a slight smile behind the words, and Ethan grinned.

'Fine then. I'll leave you alone. But later I need your help with those designs I showed you yesterday, so you better be ready for some hardcore fashion, baby.' His mouth was spread in a grin with teeth showing, but Kurt only nodded and took another spoonful of his ice cream, watching as Ethan backed into the bathroom sticking his tongue out in the hopes of making his boyfriend smile.

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><p>The conference room seemed empty now that everyone had cleared out of it. Blaine let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall, the first traces of a laugh bubbling in his throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the curls off his face. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. It <em>should <em>be happiness, he knew, but there was a part of him that was still concerned.

He'd shown the production team his musical, and they'd _liked _it. Sure, they liked his songs all the time anyway, but this time they told him he could be an assistant-director. Not the star, or even director, but at least it was _something. _He had some kind of input instead of just blindly placing his heart and soul into someone else's hands and watching them mold and twist it to their will.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell. It took him a few swipes before he could successfully unlock it with his shaky fingers but as he pressed call and held it to his ear, his voice was steady.

'Hey, Tan. I have some news for you.'

The woman's voice was light and airy as she replied. 'Oh, yeah? That's awesome, Blaine. What is it?'

He paused for dramatic effect and spoke in hushed tones, 'They're going to put Background Music on Broadway.'

Tanya's squeal was infectious and soon Blaine was lying with his back on the floor staring up at the ceiling and trying to calm his breaths. 'Am I dreaming?' he asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper.

'I sure hope not, Blaine,' she replied. 'Because if you are, my whole work day has been part of your dream-verse and I earned double pay today because my shift-mate didn't turn up.'

But Blaine wasn't even listening. 'I think I've died and gone to heaven.'

'Blaine,' she said. 'Blaine. Blaine!' But he was deep in thought, biting his lip as he stared at the ceiling. 'Fine, Blaine. I'm going to go now. Being supportive of you is cutting into my lunch hour. I'll see you when I get home, okay? Don't get hit by any cars. Don't take candy from strangers. Don't get impregnated on your way home. Okay? Okay, Blaine?'

But he was already dragging the phone away from his ear and pressing 'end'. A thought was forming in the back of his mind, a thought that was threatening to bring him down from his success-induced high.

_They were putting Background Music on Broadway. Broadway. Broad_-frickin-_way_.

_In New York._

_Where Kurt was._

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><p><strong>So, I hope you like it. If anyone wants to take a stab at the obscure Starkid reference, feel free. Please also feel free to send me your opinions on what you think should be done betteraltered/scrapped all together, and what should be kept! I'm all for feedback on this story, and I'd love to hear your opinions now that the plot is properly getting underway. This story is set to be about 20 chapters long, and hopefully I'll be able to stick to it :D**

**Can't wait to hear from you all!**

**xoxo Wynnie**


	3. Chapter Two: Ghostly Spectre

**Okay, everyone. So this is the next chapter. We're really starting to get into the plot here. I've heard lots of comments about how people can't imagine Kurt with another guy, and I just wanted to say that that's most of the reason why I did it this way. I always seem to rid fics where Blaine is with another guy, but I've never seen one where Kurt's the one with someone else. And it just sat right with me. **

**Also, a shoutout to Klaineforthewin, who correctly guessed the starkid reference :D. Also, in this chapter, please excuse my lack of originality... I'm not plagiarizing or anything... I just wasn't very interesting in my choice of names, etc. :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Ghostly Spectre<strong>

'I can't do this, Tanya.'

The blonde sighed, pulling her feet up to cross her legs on the couch. 'Of course you can, darling. You're just trying to convince yourself that you shouldn't. All you have to do is go to the auditions in New York, help pick some cast members, and then you can sit back and watch the magic happen. And your name will be _everywhere. _You've _written _a Broadway musical.' She paused, raising an eyebrow at him. 'You do realise that, don't you Blaine?'

'Yes,' the man scowled. 'But it doesn't change the fact that _he's _in New York.'

'Psh! The chances of you seeing him are like, one in a million.'

'His goal was to be on Broadway.'

'I'm sure if he was that good, he'd be starring in something already,' Tanya insisted.

'He is that good. He's just... different.'

She raised her eyebrows again, giving Blaine a stern look. 'So let me get this straight. You've been in love with this guy since high school-'

'Mm.'

'-You moved here, he moved there, you drifted apart because of distance and then...?'

'Nothing. I haven't heard from in years.'

'But you still love him?'

Blaine bit his lip. 'I didn't think I did.'

Tanya smiled. She reached up to grab Blaine's hand and pulled him down on the couch. 'But now that you're set with the opportunity to be in the same city and run into him, you know that you do,' she said with finality. 'I think it's the fairy-tale romance I've always planned in my head coming true!'

'Tan,' Blaine warned her, but she was already grinning madly and holding his hand tightly in her lap so he couldn't move.

'And then when you get there, he'll audition for the show, and he'll play the part perfectly and you'll have to _insist _he gets the role, and then you'll spend hours together everyday, and it will be just _perfect. _Lost love back together!'

'He'll get the part.'

'What do you mean?' she asked. 'How do you know that?'

Blaine bit his lip. 'Because he is the part. I wrote the damn show about him.'

Tanya just watched with wide eyes. 'You really were deluding yourself, huh?'

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><p>Ethan gently ran his hands up Kurt's sides and the older man shivered under the touch.<p>

'Stop it, Ethan,' he said, the hint of a giggle rising in the back of his throat. Sometimes he loved it that Ethan knew his ticklish spots, but other times it was just annoying. 'I have to get to work, okay? My boss won't be happy if I'm late.'

Ethan groaned. 'Come on, Kurt. Your boss doesn't really care. It's a _laundromat, _for God's sakes. All you have to do is supervise and help people work washing machines.'

Kurt had to agree with him. His day job was extremely mundane and required little effort at all. Except that caused its own problems, because if Kurt wasn't doing much, he didn't get paid for much, and New York wasn't a cheap city to live in.

'I'm serious, Ethan. If you want dinner next week, you better let me go to work.'

Ethan scowled, but warmly, and pulled away, letting his fingertips linger for a moment on Kurt's hip. 'I _do _contribute to the weekly money pool, you know.'

'Yes, but you are an intern. You almost earn less money than I do.'

He feigned hurt at this comment, but watched calmly as Kurt grabbed his silver trench coat from the hook and swung it over his shoulders. He straightened the material with a tug and reached for his bag. 'Fingers crossed that my clothes won't get stained with bleach again today?' he said in goodbye as he opened the door.

'My hearts with you,' Ethan replied, but Kurt was already moving down the stairs and the door was closing gently behind him.

Slipping out of the apartment building, Kurt pulled out his cell to check the time before sliding it back into his pocket. He'd pushed it halfway into the fabric when he felt it vibrate. His feet stopped on the pavement.

Ethan hadn't called him after he first left the apartment since they first moved in together. He'd tried to make it a thing, but Kurt usually was in too much of a hurry and he'd made a habit of not picking up.

He brought the phone back out and glanced at it. The caller ID read: _Angela. _

_Shit._

'Hi, Angela,' Kurt said, bringing the phone to his ear. 'I don't really have time to talk to any of the producers at the moment. I'm on the way to-'

'This isn't about the producers, Kurt.'

His eyebrows raised in curiosity, but he regained his composure and continued walking, in a rush to get to the laundromat before he became officially late. 'What is it?'

'I have an audition for you.'

If there was any way a stomach could drop to the floor and still feel like it was in your throat at the same time, Kurt's stomach would be doing just that. He almost dropped the phone, but pressed it to his ear again in time to hear Angela speaking.

'-and so if you can make it to the Harlow Theatre in the next twenty minutes, you have a good chance of getting this role.'

'Wait a second,' Kurt says. 'What's the role for?'

'It's a small time play written by some LA songwriter. About a gay guy at a private school.'

_Shit._

'So are you in, Kurt?'

Kurt's thoughts were reeling. He hadn't thought about Blaine Anderson in years. But at the mention of "gay guy at a private school" all the memories of Dalton academy came flooding back. He could see the fall of Blaine's blazer against his chest, the way he'd sometimes be able to capture the collar between his fingers and pull him just that _little _bit closer. He could remember the smell of his cologne and hair gel, and could feel the soft slick of the dark haired boy's curls between his fingers.

'Kurt?'

'I'll be there.'

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><p>Blaine's eyes felt like they were about to droop closed. The flight had been long, and the production team had insisted they take the red-eye to be ready and prepared for a long day of auditions. And Blaine had learned early on, back when his parents used to take him on family trips overseas, that he and planes did not bode well together.<p>

Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back in the leather theatre seat and glanced at the empty notepad in front of him. They'd told him to "take notes", but so far all he'd seen were girls with long hair and extremely feminine... assets.

'The main character _is _male,' he mumbled absently to himself, and one of the producers next to him turned his head in question. Blaine shrugged and turned back to the stage.

'Next!'

And the nervousness was back in the pit of Blaine's stomach. He was sure that Kurt would be here. He'd convinced himself that he could deal with it, that he would critique the performance, tell the other producers that he was the one he'd like to play the part, and then step back and avoid talking to him for the rest of the process. He could stop himself from saying anything he'd regret that way.

But if he didn't turn up, what would he do? No one else was meant to play that part. It was Kurt's. It always had been Kurt's.

'Mr Kurt Hummel?'

Blaine's head snapped up, but the stage was still empty. 'What did he say?' he whispered to the man beside him.

'Some guy called Hummel, I think it was. An actual guy. This play of yours is one hell of a production to cast.'

Blaine had to agree with that one, if only because it was so _damn _specific.

'Kurt Hummel?'

And then he heard it, the gentle click of heeled boots on the wooden stage and then there he was.

He didn't look any different. The porcelain skin was still there, the rosy tint in the cheeks still glowed. Blaine could even see the slight rise and fall in his chest from nerves. But there was a strong set to his jaw, and as he watched, he saw the flush fall away. It was replaced by an aura of confidence, and Blaine couldn't help but let a smile cross his face, and he was incredibly glad that the table upon which he sat was bathed in shadow.

'Would you like the musical or acting piece first?' Kurt asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

'Whatever you'd like.'

And suddenly, he was in his element. The world behind him seemed to fall away as the first clear notes rang out. He was singing Defying Gravity, and Blaine knew he'd chosen it to display his range. The clear notes were ringing in the theatre and the lack of backing music made it seem that much more poignant.

Blaine had always loved Kurt's voice, but somehow, this time, after so many years, it cut through him more than it ever had before.

_'I'm through accepting limits  
><em>_'Cause someone says they're so  
><em>_Some things I cannot change  
><em>_But till I try, I'll never know'_

And then the song was over before Blaine had even registered the high note, and he desperately wanted to clap, but the rest of the producers were silent.

'And your acting piece?'

Blaine watched as Kurt took in a deep breath, steeling himself. And then his mouth was opening, and the words were flowing out of them, exactly as they had the first time he said them, and exactly as Blaine had remembered them when he wrote them down.

_'What's that?' _the voice behind the curtain said, slightly off tempo.

'I'm decorating Domingo's casket.'

_'Well, finish up, I have the perfect song for our number and we should practice.'_

'Do tell.'

_'Candles, by Hey Monday.'_

'I'm impressed. You're usually so top forty.'

_'Well, I just wanted something a little more emotional.' _Blaine winced. The pause wasn't there, the hesitation wasn't right, and he knew it didn't sound like how he felt in that moment. But Kurt... Kurt was perfect.

He watched as the younger man's eyebrows knitted together, the same way they had that day. 'Why did you pick me to sing that song with?'

And Blaine listened and waited for the next line, the next words he'd said. They'd changed his life, and he desperately wanted to hear them again, no matter how corny they sounded, or how poorly delivered.

But the producer was waving his hand to the assistant, and Kurt was stepping back, hiding behind his shell of steely confidence again.

'That will be enough for now,' the man said. 'Can you tell me when you received that script? From our understanding, this was a very fast process and most of the other applicants only received their scripts this morning.'

Kurt bit his lip, pressing his thumbs together in front of him. 'About ten minutes ago, sir,' he said.

'Ten minutes?'

'Yes.'

'Your delivery was incredibly accurate and believable.'

'I hope it would be, sir. That's my aim.'

'Is there any other reason you would shine above the other applicants?'

And as Blaine watched, he was sure Kurt's eyes flicked in his direction, despite the fact that it was dark in the audience.

But then the look was gone, and with a firm tone, the porcelain-skinned man said, 'No, sir. None at all.'

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><p><strong>So, yes, I'm incredibly uninventive, but I'm going to say that it's in character for Blaine, seeing as I would imagine him struggling to find ways to describe things with different names. Domingo is the name of one of the other Three Tenors along with Pavarotti. So that was incredibly inventive. And yeah, Defying Gravity. I couldn't think of anything else, and it was kind of nostalgic, because I would assume that Kurt told Blaine about that at one point. :D<strong>

**But soooo, I hope you like it. I hope it meets your expectations, and that its not too crappy. :D. Also, I'm sorry if people understand the theatre process than I do. I understand productions usually take months if not years to plan, but I'm just trying to move the plot along, and I don't really want to do the whole "and then ten months later" thing... It kind of breaks the continuity in my opinion. So, yeah, they just were supermegaspeedy in completing this play. :D**

**Love you all!**

**xxx Wynnie**


	4. Chapter Three: Absolute Empathy

**Hey all! Another chapter here :D Big thanks and kudos to everyone who has reviewed on the other chapters, and on all my stories in general! You are fabulous :D**

**So this is the third chapter of Background Music. I really hope you all enjoy it. It's a little longer than the others, but I tried to cram more into it :D I hope it makes sense and everything! See you again at the end!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Absolutely Empathy<strong>

Kurt's feet pounded against the pavement, each jolt digging into his arch and forcing the muscles of his foot to spasm. He bit his lip but kept going, not slowing his pace.

He was late for work. Extremely late for work. In his rush to get to the audition, he'd forgotten to call his boss, and if there was anything his boss disliked more than Kurt Hummel, it was when Kurt Hummel didn't call to say he was going to be late.

'I-' he breathed, erratically, sliding through the door and almost colliding with a washing machine. 'I'm here- I'm- I'm sorry I'm late.' He drew in a deep breath to try and steady his voice, but it remained persistently shaky. 'I- I had a last minute audition.'

His boss glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. 'You know what I said, Kurt.'

Kurt tried to think back, but nothing was really coming to him at the moment other than _late, _and _Blaine. _'Um... no?'

'I told you that if you forgot to call one more time, or skipped a shift because of a damn _audition, _I would be firing you. So consider yourself fired.'

Kurt stared at him in shock. 'What?'

'I said, you're fired. I'm sorry, but I made myself a promise that I couldn't deal with your showbiz crap anymore, especially when you weren't getting anywhere anyways, so now you have to deal. Leave, I'm not interested.'

And with that, he stepped out of the room into the office and Kurt realised. _He just got fired. From a laundromat._

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><p>'Hello?' Tanya's voice asked over the tinny cell phone reception.<p>

'He came.'

'Pfft!' The woman tried to conceal her laughter, but Blaine could tell she was seriously amused.

'What?' he asked.

'You said "he came"!'

He groaned, but she was slowly calming down, and when he next spoke she was almost silent. 'He was at the auditions, and he was _amazing.'_

'Come on, Blaine. You're just saying that because you're in love with the guy.'

He pressed his lips together, trying to stop himself blurting out anything he'd regret. 'No, everyone else thought he was great too. And, Tan?'

'Yeah?'

'He picked the scene.'

Her voice was curious when she replied. 'What _"the scene"_?'

Blaine rolled his eyes. '_The _scene. In the Dalton commons. Where I told him I was in love with him.'

'Really?'

'Well, in not so many words. I told him he moved me. And that I'd woken up and realised he was the one I was looking for.'

'And he chose to act that scene for his audition?'

Blaine bit his lip and nodded until he realised Tanya couldn't see him over the phone line. 'There were three options they could choose from. The other two were just simple dialogue moments. It was supposed to weed out those who were confident with portraying emotion.'

Blaine waited for Tanya's reply, but all he could hear was an expectant silence.

'And _damn, _could he portray that emotion.'

And suddenly she was chattering again, like a constant buzz in his ear. 'Oh, that's so sweet, Blaine, and did you talk to him, did he see you were there, does he know its your play and does he-'

'I'm pretty sure he knows,' Blaine cut her off. 'I don't think men regularly profess their love for other men over the bejeweled caskets of dead canaries.'

Tanya was silent for a moment then- 'Wait, you did WHAT?'

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><p>The apartment was silent when Kurt reached it. He'd wandered the city for a few hours, breathing in the smoky air and the smell of hot dogs in an attempt to calm himself down. He didn't want Ethan to see him in such a state.<p>

He'd auditioned for Blaine's play.

He'd seen him in the audience, at the end of the line of producers. His mop of curly brown hair was unmistakeable, even though he'd let it grow a little longer, and he'd forgotten to shave. But Kurt had known. It was Blaine, and Blaine was there, and there was no doubt about it that it was his work. The damned lines kind of gave it away.

_You move me, Kurt. _Although he'd manage to replace his name with some irritatingly similar sounding syllable, it still rung true and clear to that day. It was like reliving it all over again.

_Except you haven't talked to Blaine in four years. And there's Ethan._

And speaking of Ethan, where was he? The apartment was painfully silent, and Ethan's usual evening bustle was missing. Kurt considered taking out some steaks to cook for dinner, but could hardly consider himself in the mood for cooking, so instead grabbed a packet of fried noodles from the pantry and placed them in a container to boil in the microwave.

He reached with one hand to the remote on the side table, flicking the TV on and watching absently out of the corner of his eye. There was some romantic comedy on, and it was just slipping into an ad-break.

'_And coming up next is an interview with Broadway star, Rachel B-_'

He switched it off quickly. He didn't want to hear about Rachel's success. Especially when he was now completely out of work and hardly less than homeless on the streets.

Kurt turned to the doorway at the sound of the key in the lock, taking a quick breath at the thought that maybe its not Ethan, and that its a robber or worse, _Blaine. _And as he saw the dark mop of curly hair slipping around the door, a lump formed in his throat.

'Kurt?' And it escaped, sliding back down to wherever it came from, because that voice was _not _Blaine's. It was Ethan's - one hundred percent Ethan's - and the man was glancing at him with an odd expression on his face. 'Were you holding your breath?'

'What?' Kurt asked quickly, turning around to grab a fork from the draw and stir his packet of noodles. 'No. I was just...' And he paused, because he wasn't quite sure what to say next.

'Staring at me?' Ethan asked, and Kurt gave a half nod, trying to pull off a nonchalant shrug. He was sure it had failed, but Ethan seemed content enough to drop his bag and step the few steps closer to Kurt and wrap his arms around his boyfriend's waist.

'Hello,' he said, lowering his voice slightly. 'How was your day?'

Kurt groaned. '_Shit.'_

'Really? That bad?'

He let out a sharp laugh, hearing the bitterness in his own tone. 'It was that bad. I got called in to a last minute audition for a small-time show, and no less than my _ex-boyfriend _was there, and he was the one that had written the damn thing.' Ethan took in a breath but didn't say anything, just held Kurt loosely by the waist and waited. 'And it was like deja vu, because he'd written it about _us, _and I did a really good job, which kind of annoys me because I really hope I don't get cast as myself in a corny musical about my life.' He took a breath. 'And then because I was late to work, I got fired.'

'_What?' _Ethan spoke up.

'Yeah, my boss was sick of me turning up late because of auditions and having to rearrange shifts. So I'm out on the streets, metaphorically.'

The dark haired man gave him a genuinely apologetic smile, and hugged Kurt close to him. 'Then maybe getting this musical could be a good thing. You'll get paid at least?'

'Yeah, but I don't want to have to deal with Blaine every day and-'

Ethan's eyes went wide. 'Wait, _what?'_

'Blaine? My ex-boyfriend? Whose play I auditioned for today?'

'Oh.' His voice was tense, and his arms had stiffened against Kurt's back. 'That ex-boyfriend.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Nothing,' Ethan said quickly, defending himself. 'Just... you mention the guy a lot. He seems like a real jerk.'

_He's not, _Kurt felt like saying, but now most definitely was not the time to sing Blaine's praises. Not if he wanted somewhere to stay for the night. 'Yeah,' he said softly. And he pressed his lips gently against Ethan's letting smooth skin touch smooth skin. 'Let's just forget about it for tonight, okay. I need a break.'

And Ethan nodded, unravelling his arms from around Kurt and stepping aside to glance at the microwave container, nudging the noodles with a fork. 'Good luck with this shit,' he said laughingly.

* * *

><p>Hanging up on Tanya, Blaine slid his phone into his pocket. He'd managed to round the conversation up with a quick lie that he needed to go because his food was boiling over. He knew it hadn't placated her one iota, but it gave him an excuse to end the line.<p>

And _man, _was he glad he did, because her voice was still ringing in his ears. She most definitely was _not _happy with the way he'd first told Kurt he had feelings for him. It didn't matter to her that he was only a high school junior and that he clearly had no idea about how relationships worked, having never been in one, and just previously having tried to seduce a guy by singing to him at the Gap. She only heard the words "dead canary" and immediately thought "inappropriate".

'You wouldn't have thought it was inappropriate if you'd been there,' he muttered half to himself, stepping across the hotel room to the small bar fridge. 'It was romantic. Really, really romantic.'

He grabbed a can of diet coke from the back of the fridge, opened it and swigged it in one smooth movement. The cola tasted smooth against the back of his throat and the tang of sweetness bit at his tongue.

Setting the can down, he moved back across the room and reached for his guitar.

Blaine had to admit that his guitar had become his best friend these days. It treated him better than Tanya did, and there was really no one else. It didn't talk back to him, or argue. It only agreed whole heartedly, and when tuned right, could accompany him perfectly in any song he chose. He didn't even have to teach it the notes.

The old battered thing, which at some point during it's life he'd called Lila, rested perfectly against his thigh and he strummed the strings with his fingernails. They made a tinny sound, and he could hear the clash of out of tune notes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pick and carefully turned the knobs, tightening the strings to a practiced perfection.

And he started to play, properly this time, each note almost perfectly formed, only the slightest of missed bar chords. His fingers moved delicately, almost lazily across the strings, and slowly a melody formed.

He wasn't sure what it was, or where it came from, but almost everything he wrote started this way. It was just a feeling he had, a feeling that he needed to play and _now _and then suddenly the music was there, and the words just slipped out. He'd edit later, make it sound all right. But for now, the only pause he took was to grab his cell out of his pocket and press record, to be able to remember this moment tomorrow, after the sleepy drowsiness had hidden it from his mind.

_'And so I guess maybe love is just a lie  
><em>_And I don't know how to stop myself from hoping I will see you again  
><em>_Because you infiltrate my mind  
><em>_Without even trying, darling, darling.'_

The words slipped from his mouth like water from a faucet, and he barely had time to think them over before they were mixing with the melody and forming the song.

_'It's something like a dream  
><em>_Perhaps I'm really lost and dying  
><em>_Did I feel the knife blade as it hit  
><em>_Or am I still left trying  
><em>_To make a life of something far from what I always wanted  
><em>_Cause ever since you've left I've seemed to go downhill.'_

The chords were becoming stronger in intensity as he came into the chorus again, those first words seeming to echo in his mind. He liked the familiarity of this song, like he'd heard it before, and he was just singing a well known tune he'd listened to on the radio. He knew instinctively his first words were the chorus and he repeated them, letting his fingers strum at Lila softly, gently, but building in power with every strum.

_'And so I guess maybe love is just a lie  
><em>_And I don't know how to stop myself from hoping I will see you again  
><em>_Because you infiltrate my mind  
><em>_Without even-'_

The phone rang, breaking Blaine out of his reverie, and he slipped the guitar off his shoulders with a scowl, leaning it against the sofa. He stopped the recording on his cell and held the phone to his ear.

'Hello?'

'Blaine. Great. You're still up. It's Marcus.'

'I know,' Blaine answered as the man paused for a breath. 'What do you want?'

'Why so sharp with me, my boy? This is good news! We've cast the role! That kid Kurt Hummel! He's in! I just got the call myself from the producers. They're so excited to be discovering a new talent. And a _countertenor. _Can you believe that? You write a play about a countertenor, and we manage to get one of the only ones in New York? How about that, Blaine? How about it?'

_Yeah. How about it._

* * *

><p><strong>Soooooo. Yes, that's the end of this chapter. I got a few comments about the changing points of view, and I love doing this, so I am definitely not going to change it :D The only time it might be limited between views is if a single scene with both of them is really long. I don't like swapping views in the middle of a scene; it kind of disrupts the flow. I both read and write stories like a movie, and I imagining changing povs in the middle of a scene like suddenly making a black screen and then starting again from a whole different perspective. Not just the normal little shifts. So I don't really do that. But I happily cut backwards and forwards from rather separate scenes, as you've probably noticed :D <strong>

**I hope you're continuing to enjoy this and feel free to continue to review :D **

**Love to you all!**

**xxxxx Wynnie**


	5. Chapter Four: Ethan

**So a very big thanks to all of you who reviewed on the last chapter! I'm sorry I couldn't reply, but fanfiction stuffed up and wouldn't let me view them anywhere else but on the notification email :/. But thank you to every one of you! Also, I forgot to mention last chapter that the song, _Lie, _was written by me, but greatly inspired by all of the songs from the Human EP, especially Jealousy, which if you haven't heard it, go check it out! And all the rest of Darren's songs! They're amazing! I also love Stutter, except I'm disappointed that there's no studio version :/ **

**This is the new chapter, and I'm sorry I didn't get it up yesterday, like some of you requested (:P) but here it is! Finally, written! I hope you enjoy it! (Also, I just realised I used a lot of exclamation marks in this authors note!)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Ethan<strong>

'Oh, and Blaine,' Marcus said over the phone line. 'Can you call him for us?'

He barely gave Blaine time to answer, 'What?' before he was continuing.

'Thanks so much, Blaine. It's just that, he was _so _talented, and no one's quite sure how to tell him that he's got the part without giving him a big head or anything, so they've asked if you can do it. You're the writer after all. And you said you wanted more of a part in the process. So, here's his number,' he rattled off the digits, 'and if you can just make sure that's done by tomorrow, okay? Thanks, Blaine. You're the greatest! See you tomorrow at the theatre! We're casting the other roles! Bright and early!'

And then he'd hung up. Blaine stared at the phone in a mixture of shock and horror, the seven digit code swirling around inside his head. He had to _call Kurt. Call Kurt. _It wasn't just a simple see him around the theatre during rehearsals. That, Blaine thought he could perhaps deal with. No, he had to _call _him.

He dialled the numbers with shaky fingers, and when he pressed the call button, his breath caught in his throat. The tone rang and then suddenly a voice was on the other end of the line, speaking into his ear.

_'Hummel and Pendergast residence, this is Ethan.'_

_Pendergast? Ethan?_

'Um, hi,' Blaine said. 'My- um... My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I was wondering if I could talk to Kurt for a second?'

'Oh,' the man said, and Blaine could hear that he was forcing his voice to be bright. 'Is there anything I can help you with? He's having a stressful time right now, and he's not really up to accepting calls. Is there a message I can pass on?'

Blaine paused, thinking, and in the silence he heard Kurt's voice call out in the distance, 'Who is it?'

'Just another producer,' his flatmate called back, and Blaine blinked.

'I didn't say I was a-'

'Was there a message?' His tone was clearly blunt now, and Blaine bit his lip, feeling awkward and tense, and he knew for some reason that this Ethan character didn't want Kurt knowing he'd called.

Blaine sighed in defeat. 'I was just,' he said softly, 'calling to let him know he got the part. He's in the production.'

And then he hung up. He didn't know what else to say.

* * *

><p>'What did they want?' Kurt asked as Ethan sat back down next to him on the sofa. 'It sounded like they weren't very cooperative.'<p>

'It wasn't a big deal,' Ethan replied. 'They were calling to let you know you got the part.'

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'For what?'

'That production you auditioned for today.'

'But-?' Kurt asked.

'I know. That was a pretty quick decision.'

'Pretty quick? That was _insanely _quick!' _He had the part. He had a job. He would be getting money! _'But I've got it? Oh my God! I've got it!' He grinned, grabbing Ethan's hands and placing them around his waist. He leaned forward until their lips touched, and couldn't stop grinning as he slid his tongue into the younger man's mouth. Ethan kissed him back with fervor, but there was an odd sense to that touch, as if he wasn't quite sure about something. His hands stayed tentative against Kurt's sides and didn't reach around his back like they normally would.

'What is it, Ethan?' he asked.

'It's nothing,' came the reply, but Kurt knew he was hiding something. He pursed his lip but didn't press it. Instead he kissed him again before leaning back and standing up, pressing his fingers against his lips.

'I think I'm about to burst. Is it normal to almost burst?'

Ethan only smiled at him.

'I'm going to sleep now, okay, before I get some kind of other news that makes me sad before I can dream about this and engrain the moment in my mind. Okay?'

He nodded. 'You go ahead. I'll come in later. I've still got some designs to finish before tomorrow.' His tone was almost solemn, and Kurt wondered about it, but didn't ask. He didn't know if he'd really like the answer.

'I'll see you in the morning then.'

And he backed out of the room, eyeing him carefully as the door shut and separated the pair. The bedroom was slightly warmer than the living room, and Kurt thanked God for double insulated windows. He flopped down on the bed, letting his knees dangle over the edge, and stared at the ceiling.

_He had a part on Broadway._

And then the reality of that set in. Because not only was it a part on Broadway, it was a part playing himself, and that wasn't really the best thing in the world.

'Oh, well,' he breathed to himself. 'It's money, and it's Broadway, and it might just be a stepping stone.'

He pressed his lips together, trying to hold out of his mind the fact that it was _Blaine's _play, and instead focusing solely on the positives.

_Money._

_Opportunities._

_Career._

_Blaine._

Apparently it wasn't going to go away as nicely as he thought.

* * *

><p>A text from Marcus told Blaine to arrive at the theatre at eight for an early start, and he dragged himself out of bed, showering and eating breakfast quickly. The song was floating around in his head. <em>Lie. <em>That's what he'd decided it was called, and he'd managed to finish it after his phone call with _Ethan. _

Even in his mind, he said the name with malice. He was like a bad voice in his ear, letting him know that Kurt was over him, that it wouldn't matter if he declared to the whole world that he's only ever loved Kurt Hummel, because he was already happy with someone else. Someone else with a protective streak and an irritating name like _Ethan Pendergast. _

He guessed that Tanya's fantasy wasn't going to come alive after all. He thought it would make him glad, but it actually just made him feel kind of empty.

He grabbed his shoulder bag from the table beside the hotel door and slipped the key card into his pocket, closing the door softly behind him.

The hotel seemed empty at such an early time in the morning, and he travelled down in the elevator in silent company. The lazy jazz curled around his ears, but it couldn't penetrate the sound of _Lie. _It rang in his ears like it was branded on his skin.

'Mr Anderson,' the man behind the receptionist counter shot him a nod. 'Have a good day, sir.'

And Blaine could barely bat an eyelid, even though he hadn't been called _sir _for as long as he could remember. 'Thanks,' he managed to mutter as he pushed the glass doors open and was met with the cold sting of the New York morning.

If the hotel inside was silent, the outside street was bustling, and Blaine suddenly understood the meaning of _the city that never sleeps. _In Ohio, at this time of day, the world would be silent and empty, serene. Here, it was a bustle of people making their way to early shifts, or home from late shifts, or getting to their next appointment before they were too late.

Blaine took a moment to soak it in, taking deep breaths. He could smell bacon frying on a street vendors pan, each crackle and hiss mixing with the slap of feet on pavement to make a unique drum beat. He could hear the sound of music all around him, and no matter how corny and _Julie Andrews _that sounded, it was true. He set off, letting his feet fall into time with those around him as he lazily and almost sadly whistled the melody of _Lie. _

'Blaine!' the voice called as he stepped through the door of the theatre, the sounds of the street falling away. 'I've got to introduce the two of you! This will be exciting man!' Marcus wrapped an arm around Blaine's shoulder and led him towards the stage, voice failing to cease its speech. Blaine almost groaned. 'Because, I know you've talked on the phone and all, but it's not the same as meeting in person, is it? I sent him the text this morning to get his butt here so he can be formally introduced to the management crew, and your the last person on the list, Blaine, you little scallywag! Don't make turning up late a habit!'

Knitting his eyebrows together, Blaine checked his watch, but it still read a good half hour before eight. 'But you said be here by eight?'

'Eight? Did I say eight? I'm sure I meant seven! We've already seen a good ten auditions for the part of Everett. Some of them were pretty good too! But here he is! My man, Kurt Hummel!'

And suddenly, Blaine wasn't the only one with Marcus's arm around his shoulder. The porcelain skinned man's lips were pursed into a thin lipped line and his eyes avoided Blaine's like the plague.

'Blaine, this is Kurt. Kurt, Blaine.' Marcus held glanced between them, attempting to make the introductions. 'I know you've talked already, but-'

And Blaine tuned out, because suddenly Kurt eyes were on him, and they were raised in surprise.

* * *

><p><strong>And so yes, my inventiveness continues, because I couldn't think of a name to take the part of Blaine's in the production, so I went with Everett, which is Darren's middle name for anyone who doesn't know. I am just amazingly talented at thinking up names! And please, someone give me a name for Kurt's counterpart. I don't want to have to call him Paul. I like the name Everett, but Paul is just not... interesting enough for Kurt's character! Please, be my inventive brains for me! I would be forever grateful!<strong>

**And once again, thank you for taking the time out to read this :D You are muchly loved and appreciated!**

**xxxxx Wynnie**


	6. Chapter Five: Julliard

**Two chapters in one day! Hooray! (and that rhymed, which I didn't really mean for it to, but oh well :D) I didn't expect for this to get finished today, but it moved really quickly once I got into it, especially the dialogue between the pair of them and the rises and falls in these conversations. So, I know it's a short chapter, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I hope to see you coming back for more! Also, I think I am officially addicted to I Still Think, by Darren Criss, and Hannah by Freelance Whales. So check those out if you haven't already!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Julliard<strong>

'We've _what?' _Kurt hissed as Marcus stepped away, leaving them facing each other. 'Did he say we've _talked. _How does he kn-'

Blaine bit down on his lip, holding up his hand to silence the younger man. 'I called your place last night to let you know you got the part. Ethan sounds like a nice enough guy.' He couldn't help the sarcasm that slipped into his tone. 'Is he good for you?'

Kurt ground his teeth together, his glare not fading. 'Ethan's a great guy, Blaine. Why were _you _calling and not one of the other producers?'

'They asked me to. Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't have.' Blaine knew it technically wasn't true, but he said the words anyway.

'And why didn't Ethan tell me it was you who had called? Did you even tell him who you were?'

It was Blaine's turn to grit his teeth in annoyance. 'I _told _him. Actually, he seemed to know a lot about me and my production. I mentioned my name and he seemed to know exactly who I was.'

'Are you phishing for praise here, Blaine? Do you want me to tell you I sing your praises every day, because I _don't. _You walked out of my life four years ago, and I've managed to make my life work without you in it. Now, if you don't mind, would you keep to yourself and stop interfering in my life where you're not wanted. I'm sure you have someone you live with to run back to.'

_I didn't leave you, _Blaine felt like arguing, but instead he reached out a hand to place it gently on Kurt's elbow. 'I don't,' he whispered.

Kurt jerked his arm away. 'What do you mean, you don't?'

'I mean, I'm not living with anyone. Well, I mean I am, but Tanya's a _girl _and I'm pretty sure she has an on-again-off-again boyfriend.'

Kurt bit his lip. 'You're not...'

'No. Never.' And it was the most solid and truthful thing Blaine had said in a long time.

But Kurt's eyes were darkening and he turned from Blaine, shifting the weight of his bag on his shoulder and stepping down the final steps towards the table.

'Here you go, Kurt,' Marcus said cheerfully, grabbing his bag and steering him down into the seat beside Blaine's. 'You're gay right? You have that vibe. I'm really supportive of gays. My mate Blaine here is gay. Right, Blaine?'

Blaine only nodded, sliding into his seat. Kurt shot him a look, but there was no exchange of words.

'Hey! Maybe we could get some romance on set, eh? Wink wink, nudge nudge.'

Blaine let out a shaky laugh and reached up to slap Marcus lightly on the shoulder. 'Would you say that to any of your other guy friends?'

'No?' the man said in confusion.

'Well, please don't say it to me, or to Kurt either. It's not appreciated.'

And with that, he leaned back in his chair, just catching the thankful smile that crossed Kurt's face as he pulled his water bottle from his messenger bag and placed it on the table.

* * *

><p>'How the hell did you come up with such crappy names?' Kurt hissed to Blaine, glancing through the script as a boy who looked barely old enough to be living without supervision in New York, let alone playing someone older than Kurt, sang some eighties power ballad that Blaine could hardly remember.<p>

'Wikipedia?' he said, his voice raising up at the end in a question.

'That's the worst writing method I've ever heard of! You called me _Mark? _And Finn _Connor? _How could I have ever fallen for a guy with the name _Connor?' _

_Because you were an idiot in the first place, _Blaine felt like saying, but held his tongue.

'I mean sure, give yourself an okay name! Even Wes and David have okay names. Even frickin' Nick and Jeff! But no, you give me _Mark. Mark.'_

'Have you got a problem with that, Kurt?' Blaine whispered.

'As a matter of fact, I do.'

'Well, you can't really say that '_Kurt' _is a very interesting name.'

A growl came from the man's throat but he didn't say another word. His eyes were resolutely trained on the boy in front of him, belting his lungs out slightly off tune in front of them.

'What does he look like?' Blaine whispered.

Kurt turned to him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance in his eyes. 'What?'

'Ethan. What does he look like?'

The younger boy bit his lip and shrugged. 'Y'know. Average. He's younger than me, by about a year. He's... cute.' Blaine sensed an evasiveness in the tone, and he pressed a little further.

'Hair colour? Eye colour?'

'What's the sudden interest, Blaine?'

He bit his lip. 'I'm interested. I haven't met anyone since... well, that was even good looking enough for me to consider it. I just want to find out how he compares to me, I guess.'

'Jealous?'

Blaine considered denying it, but he knew that Kurt could catch him on a lie, and instead nodded. 'A little.'

Kurt bit his lip, but reluctantly reached into his bag and pulled out a photograph, handing it to Blaine. As he looked at it, the older boy could see why Kurt was with him.

He had a chiseled jaw, slightly softer than his own. His eyes were a dark brown, but his hair curled loosely around his forehead, the same brown as Blaine's. 'Cute,' he whispered, and passed the photo back. He couldn't help but notice the resemblance.

'Yeah,' Kurt breathed quietly.

The tension built between them, blossoming and flourishing. Blaine couldn't help but notice that every time he seemed to break through Kurt's shell, the younger man would bring up his protective wall again, enclosing himself from view. Moments like these, where he seemed filled with some kind of pain and anguish were short lived and quickly replaced by the anger.

'How long have you been together?' Blaine asked cautiously.

Kurt blinked, but answered slowly, 'We've known each other about a year.'

'Was there- was there anyone before that?'

He shook his head. 'No. No one.'

And there it was, the wall building up again. 'But come on, Blaine. You were the one that said we should have a break, so you don't really have a right to be upset about this.'

'Yeah,' Blaine whispered back, voice rising slightly in intensity. 'A break. I was thinking it would be a day, a week at the most, not _four years. _I was trying to get a clear head and not be thinking about you every minute of every day so I could make a rational decision. I was thinking about transferring. My professors were telling me I had high enough scores to get into Julliard, and I was going to surprise you once I'd made a decision. But then you wouldn't answer any of my texts or calls, and I gave up. What was I supposed to do?'

'Sh!' one of the producers hissed from beside them.

Kurt lowered his voice, scowling, but there was a softening in his jaw, and a hint of surprise in his eyes. 'Try more?'

'Do you know how many calls I left?'

'Yeah. 226. I counted.' He bit his lip, glancing at the man currently on stage, but not seeming to take him in. 'Were you really going to come to Julliard?'

Blaine brushed a curl out of his eyes and ran his thumb along the stubble at his chin. 'When I first started calling you, I'd made up my mind. But when you didn't answer, I realised I _was _doing it for _you_. The centre of the music industry isn't here in New York. It's in LA, and I knew that. That's why I was there, and if I wasn't with you here, there was no reason for me to come.'

'LA was good to you?' he asked.

'Yeah. I guess. There's about fifty albums that if you look close enough, my name is written in tiny print against at least one of the songs. What about you?'

Kurt sighed. 'Well, I'm sure you've seen Rachel on the news.' His tone was bitter, and Blaine had the distinct impression that the two who were once close friends hadn't talked in a long time either.

'But you haven't got any parts?'

He shook his head. 'Not major ones. Not until now anyway.' He almost smiled at that, and it made Blaine's stomach flip over.

'I guess it's hard not to get the part of yourself, eh?'

And then Kurt was letting out a short sharp laugh and leaning back in his seat to watch the next audition.

'Guess not.'

* * *

><p><strong>Sooo (I feel like I say that alot) any opinions? Any place anyone wants this story to go, or anything they want to see happen (other than the obvious of Kurt and Blaine getting back together). I thought I really needed to have a chapter where I explained what happened between the two of them so this is it, my explanation chapter :D. Also, I incredibly enjoyed writing angry!kurt and angry!blaine :D I hope I captured how people want to see them okay :D<strong>

**Much love to everyone who takes the time out to review on this chapter, or the last one, seeing as most of you will probably get them in one hit. I love you all :D**

**xxx Wynnie**


	7. Chapter Six: New York

**So, thank you all for sticking with this even though this chapter seemed to take forever to write! I knew what I wanted to happen, but none of it quite went the way it was planned and this insanely long chapter was the result. Originally, this chapter was supposed to continue for at least another scene, but I decided to leave it here when... well, you'll see... Just letting you know that the end totally came out of a jumping plot bunny and it was _not _planned. I do love it when my characters decide what they're doing on their own. :D See you at the end!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: New York<strong>

'Okay, everyone. I know tomorrow's Sunday, and you'll be glad to know that we've scheduled it as a day off. So if anyone's new to the powers of New York, feel free to have a bit of a look-see.' Marcus stood in front of the table, hands held aloft, and even if Kurt wasn't very fond of him, he could see why he was an effective organizer. 'And I want to see you all back here on Monday, bright and early, especially those of you in the back who we want to see again. And Blaine,' he said, turning to the man beside Kurt, who let his eyes open lazily in response. 'I want you here on _time, _okay?'

Blaine just nodded.

Kurt bit his lip, considering how to start this conversation. Learning that Blaine had asked for their break to consider moving to New York had thrown him. It meant that every piece of evidence that he'd stacked in his argument against the man - when he was barely old enough to be considered one - was suddenly irrelevant and was being thrown out of the court room.

'Blaine, um,' he said, turning in his seat to grab his messenger bag. _Let's make this look as casual as possible. _'What are you planning for tomorrow?'

Blaine's head swiveled to catch his eye, and the sleepy look was gone. 'I- I was just planning on staying in my hotel and-'

'Great. Because I should show you the city.' Kurt rushed to get the words out before they failed him altogether. 'You haven't been here since spring break in our Freshman year at college, I presume, and its changed a lot. I can show you the town.'

Blaine nodded thoughtfully as he picked up his own bag and swung it over his shoulder. 'That would be great.' He eyed Kurt cautiously. 'But what about Ethan?'

Kurt flicked his hand at Blaine in what he hoped would be considered a nonchalant move. 'Ethan works Sundays. He's gotta find _some _way to pay our grocery bills on his intern salary.' They both ignored the fact that they knew the man would _not _be happy with their New York tour plans.

The older man let a laugh escape his lips, barely loud enough that Kurt could hear it. But it was there, and it seemed almost normal, and he relished it for all it was worth.

'Here's my cell number,' he said, scribbling the digits down on a notepad that sat on the desk. 'Call me when you're ready to meet me. Central park, okay? And don't forget to give me time to get ready!'

And then Kurt was sliding out of his chair and walking away, holding his breath until he was out of earshot of the older man. _Well, this can only end in disaster._

* * *

><p>As Blaine sat down on the park bench, he couldn't help but feel <em>obvious. <em>He was wearing a suit, with the cuffs rolled up and the tie hanging loose, because Kurt had told him to wear something nice. He was sure it was too much, but when he packed for the trip, he'd only managed to cover the two extremes: work and sleep.

The wind was rustling the leaves of the trees above him and the dappled sunlight that peeked through warmed his skin. He had to admit that he liked New York. He always had, in a way. If there was anywhere on the continent that he could go for a holiday, given the choice, it would be a hard toss up between Montreal and New York. And maybe throw Chicago in there, just because.

'Blaine!' he heard Kurt's voice call, and he turned his head at the sound. The man was wearing silver dress pants that matched elegantly the jacket draped over his arm.

'How long have you been waiting? I told you to give me time to get ready!'

Blaine shrugged. 'I didn't mind. It was peaceful.'

Kurt shot him a look. _'Was?' _But there was a laugh burbling in the back of his throat and he motioned with his hand for Blaine to join him. 'Come on. We have places to be.'

Blaine stood up, lifting his messenger bag over his shoulder and gripping the strap tightly. The skin on his knuckles was almost a pale translucent white and his breath was tight in his throat, but Kurt was just ahead of him and his walk seemed calm and collected. Blaine wished he could be calm and collected.

'So, I know you've been to the theatres and everything,' the younger man said, glancing back over his shoulder. 'But I was thinking we could go to the more _cultural _side of New York, you know? I want to show you the New York that only locals get to see.'

He smiled back to Blaine, and he couldn't help but stare as the sun caught Kurt's hair, making the perfectly styled spikes glow. But he was already facing forward again, and the look went unnoticed. Blaine sighed a small sound of relief.

'Where are we going?' he asked, quickening his step slightly to catch up to Kurt. Their footfalls echoed in time, and it reminded Blaine of the way they would walk through McKinley High, hand in hand on their way to classes. His fingers curled in upon themselves and his hand tightened into a fist absently.

'We're catching a cab.'

Blaine frowned. 'Doesn't that cost money? I mean, couldn't we have just met wherever we're going?'

Kurt just glanced at him, eyebrows raised as if to say, _don't you trust me? _'Central Park is the only real place to meet in New York. And anyway, you haven't lived until you've travelled in a New York cab. This is all part of the experience.'

'Do you do this often?' the older man asked as they reached the edge of the park. Kurt held out his hand for a taxi, and the golden car slid to a stop at the curb.

'I have only one thing to say. Don't close your door until we've checked that the seatbelts work.'

'Huh?' Blaine asked, but Kurt was already sliding into the car and into the opposite seat so he could slide in. He obediently left the door open and pulled the seatbelt closed. It clicked home snugly.

'You can close the door now, Blaine,' Kurt said as he turned to the driver. 'Sarengetti's. You know the one, right? The little pizza shop.' The driver nodded, and on the rather vague instructions, slid out into the middle lane and was off.

'Sarengetti's?'

Kurt nodded. 'You haven't had pizza until you've had Sarengetti's. He makes authentic Italian pizza. Woodfire oven, and all that jazz. I don't think I've taken anyone there who hasn't enjoyed it.'

He had placed his bag at his feet and suddenly he was rummaging through it. He brought out a packet of jellybeans and held them out for Blaine. 'Jellybean?'

Blaine raised his eyebrows, but took one with a slow hesitant hand. 'Should I be asking why you have jellybeans?' Kurt glanced at the partition between them and the driver pointedly, then leaned across to whisper, 'It's tradition.'

'What is?' Blaine asked.

Kurt sighed, as if he shouldn't have to explain it. 'Leaving a jellybean on the floor of the cab. The very first time I rode in a New York cab, my roommate spilled a packet of jellybeans on the floor. And every time since, I've had to bring jellybeans. I only leave one, but I'm hoping one day, I'll enter a cab and they'll be a jellybean on the floor.' He grinned. 'It's kind of stupid, I know, but I haven't done anything different, and just because you're here doesn't mean you can change the laws of my universe.'

Blaine bit his lip, mulling that over, and an awkward silence suddenly spread before them. Kurt had said those words before. In rather a different context, of course, but about Blaine nonetheless. _You came into my small little existence, and you changed the laws of my universe._

'Well,' Kurt said quickly, grabbing his bag and lifting it onto his knee, the short silence suddenly broken. 'We're almost there.' The cab was slowing, and pulled to a stop outside what looked like a seedy bar and restaurant. 'Trust me,' he said, motioning for Blaine to open the door and climb out. 'It's not as bad as it looks.'

But Blaine wasn't sure if he could trust him on that one. The exterior of the restaurant was a blistering facade, the fabric awning peeling away at the edges and the brick cracking gently around the single glass door and window. 'I feel like I'm entering a 50's gay bar.'

Kurt laughed, pushing open the glass door. 'If it was a gay bar in the 50s, you wouldn't be entering with anyone else, or during the day. There's that small risk that you may be arrested.'

Blaine rolled his eyes. 'Just that small risk?'

Stepping into Sarengetti's was like stepping into a little slice of Italy, and the warmth was the first thing that hit him. Outside, the autumn chill was just starting to slide into the atmosphere, but in the restaurant, it was a sauna. Behind the formica counter, he could see the wood-fire ovens Kurt had been talking about, and the flames that blazed at the back of them crackled in Blaine's vision.

'Hey, Hummel,' a deep baritone called, stepping up to the counter. 'Brought a friend?'

Kurt nodded. 'Joe, this is Blaine. Blaine Anderson. We went to high school together.'

The portly man gave Blaine a nod, and he returned it. 'What is it for you boys today?' Joe asked, leaning against the counter.

'Give us your specialty, Joe,' Kurt said. 'I'm introducing Blaine to New York, and that's the best way, don't you think?' The man nodded and Kurt smiled. 'We'll be down the back?'

'Sure thing, Hummel.'

And Kurt was grabbing Blaine by the arm and leading him down towards the back of the restaurant to the dining room. The seats were virtually empty, only a few patrons littered about the room. Kurt motioned to a table against one wall, and they both sat down.

'This place seems a little...' Blaine paused, considering the word. 'I don't know... deserted?'

Kurt nodded. 'That's part of Sarengetti's charm. Very few people know the place, and those who do keep it to themselves. Cabbies, I find, know about Sarengetti, but I've heard he _was _a cabby once, so that could explain it.'

'How does the business survive?'

'One part good service, one part amazing pizza, and one part generous tips. And trust me, once you've eaten Joe's pizza, you'll understand why he gets generous tips.'

Kurt was sitting up in his chair and he's hands were clasped together on the table, almost bouncing with what seemed to be excitement. 'Today is going to be a big day,' he said, grinning.

'What have you planned?'

'You'll just have to see.' His smile was infectious, and Blaine couldn't help but grin back as Joe Sarengetti carried a wooden board laden with pizza to their table.

'Feast for my boys?' he smiled as he placed the board down. Kurt thanked him and passed him a fifty before he turned and left with a thankful nod.

'A fifty?' Blaine whispered. 'Pizzas are _not _worth fifty bucks!'

Kurt just shook his head. 'Try it.'

Blaine reached for a slice, the cheese oozing of the side and the small amount of topping glistening through it. He took a bite and almost stopped dead. 'Oh my God,' he breathed. 'It's amazing!'

'I told you so.' Kurt's smile was smug.

'Wow.' Blaine took another bite and through his mouthful he muttered, half to himself and half to the man opposite him, 'Much better than Breadstix.'

There was a moment of pause, the awkward tension of bringing up the past. But then Kurt was laughing and their conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm of pizza and the past.

* * *

><p>'A blazer shop? Seriously? They have something like this?' Blaine's eyes were wide as he scanned the store. From the roof hung hundreds upon hundreds of different designs of blazers.<p>

'They make to order too, I discovered, after I walked in here by accident.' Kurt was leaning against the counter, watching as Blaine ducked between the racks and hanging jackets in wonder. 'I couldn't stop laughing. I could just imagining Wes and David in here.'

'They would _die,' _Blaine agreed, pulling at one of the jackets to see the one behind it. 'Hey! Change the piping on this one, add the logo and you've got Dalton all over!' He pulled the blazer off its hanger and shrugged it on. 'Right size and everything.' He spun, locating the mirror on the opposite wall and turned side to side, admiring himself. 'I feel seventeen again.'

He glanced at Kurt, but the younger boy was deep in thought. 'Hey,' he called. 'Kurt?'

'Huh? Oh, sorry. Yeah, it looks great on you.' He smiled, sliding down off the counter to walk across to Blaine. He placed his hands on the older boys shoulders, smoothing out the light creases that had formed in the collar. 'They always did.'

Blaine smiled, and he wished he could forget the feeling of Kurt's hands on his skin - even if it was through two layers of fabric - and how much he longed to have them stay there. It concerned him, how much just this simple touch could make him feel. _It's casual, Blaine. Be happy that he even offered to take you out today. Friends. Friends is where you're at. _

In the mirror he watched as Kurt frowned slightly and removed his hands, smoothing down his own shirt and stepping away from Blaine. 'Come on. We've got to get going if we're going to make it to everywhere I've planned today. I can see you wanting to stay at the next store for hours.'

And the moment was broken, and Blaine wasn't sure if he should be sad. All he knew that he felt was deflated.

* * *

><p>The store was filled with row upon row of records, so long that they seemed to fall away into the distance. Coming to stand beside Blaine, Kurt motioned to the counter, about half way down the store.<p>

'If you want to find anything, _ask. _The organizing system here is insane, but in my opinion,' he said with a grin, 'it's best to just wander. Something will turn up that will draw your eye.'

Blaine nodded and slipped away, running his hands along the smooth wood of the racks. He hadn't seen so many vinyls in one place in his life. Sure, his parents had a decent collection, and Dalton was old enough to still have some stacked in the back of the library. But this, this was like a musicians heaven.

He paused before a stack of records and flipped through them, glancing at the array of music sitting just in front of him. In the one pile there was a mix of barber shop, hip hop and eighties rock. 'How _is _this store organised?' Blaine asked, turning to Kurt.

'I have no idea. There's no computers, just an electronic register. And there's no kind of system. But if you ask Emil behind the counter, he knows where every album is. Someday, I'm going to crack his code.' Kurt grinned. 'My only problem is that I have a feeling there is no code. I think he just has one insane memory.'

He stood beside Blaine, glancing through a different pile of vinyls. 'Oh my God.'

'What?' The older boy pressed closer to him to see what he was looking at.

'Katy Perry.'

'Huh?'

Kurt pulled the record out of the stack and passed it to Blaine. _Teenage Dream. _'You know what this means, right?'

_We were always meant to be together? _'No, what?'

'You have to sing!' He grabbed the album back from Blaine and ran to the counter. 'Hey, Emil, can you play the first track on this for us?'

The skinny man behind the counter nodded and took the record, sliding it on to the player.

The opening chords played out and Blaine almost sighed at the memory.

'Come on,' Kurt called, laughing. He grabbed Blaine's hand and tugged him towards the center of the store. It was a Sunday, and the store was nowhere near deserted, but he was dancing to the classic Warbler two-step, and Blaine couldn't help but smile and join in.

_'You think I'm pretty without any make up on_

_You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong_

_I know you get me, so I let my walls-_

Kurt! I can't sing it in this key!'

'Sure you can't!' Kurt laughed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him as they danced. 'You're Blaine Warbler Anderson. You can sing anything.'

Blaine laughed and continued, _'You brought me to life_

_Now every february, you'll be my valentine, Valentine..._

That was the stupidest thing I ever did!' Emil had turned up the music, and Blaine yelled to be heard over the sound of Katy Perry's much more talented voice.

'What?' Kurt called back.

'Convincing everyone to perform at the Gap for Jeremiah! I knew I didn't like him. Not really.'

They were still dancing to the beat, but now they were slowing down and the step was becoming more of a sway.

'You knew?'

Blaine shook his head. 'Not that I loved you. Not at that point. But I did.' He paused, biting his lip. 'I do.'

'No, you don't.' Kurt shook his head. 'You can't still love me. You must hate me. I-' The younger man ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Blaine, his eyes screaming desperately that he wanted to back away, run, turn back time and not pick up the damn Katy Perry album that started the whole conversation. 'I treated you like shit, Blaine.'

'I know.' He reached out, trying to lay a hand on Kurt's shoulder but he was pulling away. 'But I never stopped loving you, Kurt. I couldn't. I just waited until the day when I would see you again, and I could beg my case, and I'm praying that you won't leave again, won't push me away.'

The music was coming to a close and they were standing still now, staring at each other. 'I don't want to lose you again.'

'I- I can't- Ethan-'

'Stuff Ethan. You know you're only dating him because he looks like me.'

A flash of hurt passed through Kurt's eyes and Blaine shook his head quickly. 'No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure he's a great guy, and you deserve someone great but...' He bit down on his lip. 'Shit, I'm doing this all wrong aren't I?'

'Yes.' Kurt's voice was small.

'I just- Kurt, I love you. And I can't change that. Please, give me another chance.'

'I don't believe you.'

'That I love you? Of course I love you. You're amazing, and talented, and gorgeous, and the only guy I've ever really met who took my world, held it upside down and shook it. I've known I've loved you since the day you sang Blackbird. I've loved you much longer than that.'

Kurt's lips were a thin line. 'Prove it.'

'What do you mean?'

'Kiss me. Here. Now. If the fireworks are still there, I might believe-'

But Blaine didn't have to be asked twice. His hands reached for Kurt's hips, pulling him closer, and his lips were pressing against the younger man's. The smooth feel of Kurt's lips was exactly as Blaine remembered, and he kissed him harder, tightening his arms around his back and gently biting down on his bottom lip. His mouth opened and Blaine took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Kurt's mouth, tasting that familiar taste that he hadn't been able to experience for four years.

'Blaine,' Kurt murmured through the kiss, placing his hands on the older man's chest and pressing gently to separate them. 'I- that was- I don't know how to-'

'Don't say anything,' Blaine said quickly. 'Let's just go.' He glanced around the room to see Emil and a small crowd of other shoppers clapping. He gripped Kurt's hand and their fingers slid together with a simple ease. 'Take me to our next destination. We can talk there.'

Kurt nodded and led him out of the store, the colour in his cheeks flaming an angry red.

* * *

><p><strong>So, opinions? I definitely did <em>not <em>plan to have them kiss in this scene. But it just kind of happened, and I rolled with it. It works, I think. :) I hope you enjoyed this incredibly long (for me) chapter, and I'm sorry, but the next one will probably be nowhere near as long. I'm planning on going to go back to the _blaine-kurt-blaine-kurt _format. It was just hard with this one, when everything was very Blaine centric. I kind of needed to stay in Blaine's head :). See you all next chapter! Hopefully it won't be too long!**

**xxx Wynnie**


	8. Chapter Seven: Everett

**Chapter Seven: Everett**

The small coffee shop above the bookstore was comfortable despite its crowded nature. Each table was snugged close to its neighbour and the chairs bumped backs, but the warm smell of the percolator and baked cakes was enough to offset the tight space and make Kurt feel as if the table that he and Blaine were sharing was the only place that existed in the world.

'You remembered my coffee order,' he said, raising an eyebrow in what he hoped was a feigned nonchalance. He couldn't displace the haptic memory of Blaine's lips pressed tightly against his at Emil's. He sipped at his mocha, feeling the smooth taste of the chocolate as it lingered on his tongue.

'Of course I did.' His eyes raised and caught Blaine's. The older man was staring at him, that piercing stare that he seemed to manage so well, while looking so content at the same time. His chin was resting on his hand, the same way it had at the Lima Bean back at the end of their junior year. The first time they'd shared 'I-love-you's.

Kurt took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to steel himself for what he knew he had to say. They'd been sitting at the table for ten minutes, just passing small talk, and even though it was comfortable, Kurt knew it had to end. They were here to talk, and they needed to talk. _Damn, _did they need to talk.

'Blaine-'

'I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just kissed you like that, it was-'

'No, Blaine,' Kurt argued, shaking his head. 'I shouldn't have asked you to kiss me. I was... I was trying to prove a point to myself.'

Blaine frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. 'Did it work?'

Kurt's reply was a sharp laugh. 'No.'

'Why not?'

'Well, it proved a point alright.' He took another sip of his coffee. 'Just not the one I was after.'

Blaine swirled his medium drip. He took a deep breath, biting his lip lightly. 'What did it prove?'

_What did it prove? _Kurt almost laughed to himself. _It proved you right and me wrong. It proved that you still love me, that I'm not over you. _'You think about it,' he said.

'Trust me, I have been.' He took another sip of his coffee as Kurt watched.

_How am I supposed to tell him? Tell him that I think I love him too? Why is it that there's never the right song to tell someone how you feel?_

'Kurt, I-'

'No,' the younger man said quickly, holding out his hand for silence. 'Let me speak first. I need to tell you something.' He took in another deep breath and rested his hand palm up on the table, offering it to Blaine. The calloused hand slipped over his, Blaine's fingers curling gently around his wrist. A smile graced his lips that Kurt wished he could return.

'Shoot.'

'Blaine, what happened at Emil's... I wanted to show myself that I was over you. And that you didn't love me anymore, no matter what you said. I was hoping we'd kiss, and it would be nothing, and we could move on from that moment, maybe as friends, but without the unresolved tension.' He paused, and Blaine squeezed his hand softly in encouragement. His eyes were lighting up in hope, and Kurt desperately hoped that what he would say next wouldn't make that spark go away.

'And I know that I'm with Ethan, and I can't just go behind his back or anything but... I think I might be... Shit, Blaine.'

Kurt pulled his hand away, crushing it with his other hand beneath the table and biting down on the soft skin of his lip. Blaine's hand remained on the table, the fingers loose and stilled from the sudden loss of contact. The spark had fallen from his eyes, and it almost made Kurt cry. _Damn, _his overactive tear ducts.

'I don't know how to say this,' he said, glancing up. 'I don't want it to be like this. I've spent so long telling myself you were a jerk, Blaine, and finding out about Julliard shook me. It really did.' He blinked to try and get the tears out of his eyes, but they fell unbidden. He wished Blaine didn't have to see him cry. He wished Blaine wouldn't make him cry like this.

'What are you trying to say, Kurt?' His jaw was tight, and his fingers were curling into a fist. His medium drip sat deserted beside his elbow.

'I- I'm trying to say that- that... _Hell, _I think I'm still in love with you, Blaine.'

* * *

><p>Blaine was sure his heart had just skipped a beat. There was something wrong with the pattern. The normal, familiar <em>ba-boom <em>was now suddenly a _bang-bang-bang-bang-bang _and he was sure he'd stopped breathing. 'What?'

'Please don't make me repeat it.' Kurt's eyes were dark and shameful, as if there was something wrong. That it wasn't _right _to be in love.

'Can I please kiss you now?' Blaine asked, and without waiting he stood up, leaning over the table and using one hand to brace himself as the other curled gently around Kurt's neck and his lips pressed tight to the younger man's.

The response was immediate, and Blaine moaned as Kurt's teeth brushed roughly against his bottom lip. He parted his lips and felt warmth, Kurt's tongue sliding into his mouth, exploring like the two hadn't had a chance to explore for years.

There was a comfortable familiarity in the kiss, the sense that this was one of many, and not a single moment, standing out in history. The table was biting into Blaine's stomach, and he slipped out of his chair, moving round it without relinquishing pressure on Kurt's lips. The younger man stood up to reach him, and Blaine let his hands slide down Kurt's waist and linger at his hips.

_This is a public venue, Blaine Anderson, _he thought to himself. _You can't just kiss people in a public forum. That's way too personal._

'Kurt,' he whispered gently, pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. 'Let's leave.'

And like at Emil's, Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt's, knotting their fingers together. This time, however, he led the younger man out of the store, holding him close to his side protectively, and whispering into his ear, 'I'm still in love with you too.'

* * *

><p>Kurt wasn't sure whether what he was feeling was bliss or apprehension as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He'd considered taking the elevator, but his muscles were alive with adrenaline, and his skin was still tingling along his neck and hands and lips were Blaine had pressed gentle kisses, and he needed some time to release the built up energy.<p>

He'd counted the number of steps once, when the elevator was broken down, but now the trip seemed to take very little time, and he was at the door before he even realised it. His key slid smoothly into the lock and it was then that he glanced at his watch. It was late enough that Ethan might be home from work, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to have that conversation.

The door opened in one smooth movement and he stepped inside, placing his bag down beside the door and slipping off his coat while he pushed the door closed with his boot.

'Ethan?' he called out tentatively. A silence greeted him, and he stepped further forward into the apartment. The TV was on, and he leaned across to the remote to switch it off. 'Ethan?' he called again. He stepped into his bedroom and there he saw the man, sitting on the bed, arms and legs crossed and mouth forced into a tight grimace.

'Hey, Kurt,' he said. 'Have a nice day?'

Kurt nodded, his brow furrowing in confusion. 'What's wrong?' he asked.

'What's wrong? You want to know what's wrong, Kurt? What's wrong is you showing your ex around the town and making out with him while you're at it.'

'How did you-'

'Find out? Well, I happened to be meeting with a director from your show and I saw the two of you at the coffee shop. I'm surprised you didn't see me. Then again, I'm nowhere near as good as him, am I?'

Kurt paused. He didn't know what to say.

'You know what, Kurt? Get out of my apartment. Get out of this relationship. Take your stuff and go.'

Kurt reached an arm out to lay on Ethan's shoulder, but the younger man swatted it away. 'Leave.'

It was as Kurt had bundled his belongings and was opening the door that he heard the last words directed at him from Ethan's lips. 'Guess who got the part of Everett.'

* * *

><p>'Tanya, you won't believe what happened to me today. I guess I'll take to you when you get home, okay? Call me back. It doesn't matter what time. Just call, okay? I have so much to tell you!' Blaine drew the phone away from his ear and disconnected the call, aiming the cell at the couch as he reached for the hotel phone to call for room service. He was halfway through dialing the number, a grin still spread across his face when his cell rang again.<p>

He slid across the room on his socks, calling connect as he pressed it to his ear. 'Tanya?'

There was a silence. Then, softly, 'No, it's Kurt.'

'Kurt?'

'Um... Can I come to your hotel? And bring some stuff? I kind of need a place to stay right now and-'

'Of course,' Blaine said quickly, grabbing his keycard and wallet from the island and slipping out the hotel door. 'Where are you? I'm gonna catch a cab to your place and I'll help you with anything you-'

'Blaine, I'm outside your hotel. I'm sorry, but you were the first person I thought of, and then I got here and I realized you probably wouldn't appreciate me turning up at your door like this, so I called you, just now, and I'm- I'm sitting outside.'

Blaine was already halfway to the foyer and he quickened his pace as he took the last floor of stairs. 'I'm coming, okay?' he murmured into the phone. 'Don't go anywhere.' And he hung up, slipping the phone into his pocket as he pounded across the marble floored entrance hall. He could see the shadow of a figure through the glazed glass of the revolving door and he took it at a run.

'Kurt,' he breathed, and suddenly the younger man was in his arms and he was holding him tightly, hardly noticing the moist feel of tears against his shoulder.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello, lovely readers. I didn't do an authors note at the start of this one, like I normally do, but I'm writing this on my mums computer while my dad (angrily) updates mine, so I'm in a bit of a bad mood, and I'm just gonna leave it at this. I hope you enjoy the chapter though. I love writing these little tense moments of angst. And I thought after so much sappyness, you needed a bit of angst-bunny to go in there :D. Have a good weekend (while I go chilling to the beach - in winter) and I'll see you soon!<strong>

**xoxo Wynnie**


	9. Chapter Eight: Mutual Tension

**Chapter Eight: Mutual Tension**

There was something to be said for dysfunctional relationships, Kurt had to agree. Blaine's hotel was certainly more upscale than the apartment he'd shared with Ethan, and there was more than enough room to go around. His belongings were piled in the hall, Blaine only sniggering slightly at the large number of bags he'd needed.

'So, are you okay if I call in pizza? I don't have anything for cooking supplies here.' Blaine was standing above Kurt as he reached for the phone.

'That's fine.' Kurt pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose where the headache from his tears had formed. 'I can deal with pizza.'

'I'll get it from Sarangetti's.'

Kurt couldn't help but smile. 'Sure.'

Blaine dialed the number and talked briefly before hanging up and settling down beside Kurt. 'How are you holding up?'

'I'm okay.'

'You look a bit better. Headache?'

Kurt nodded. With a half smile, Blaine reached across to the side table and passed him a sheet of ibuprofen. He took it thankfully.

'And emotionally?' Blaine asked as he swallowed the capsules.

'Yeah, I think I'm okay.' _What's with the non-commital replies, Kurt? You've been thinking it for the last hour. Now that Ethan's kicked you out, your free to do whatever you want with Blaine. Keep to the positives. Keep to the positives. _'I'm glad that he's no longer an issue to deal with.' He paused, biting his lip. 'At least, romantically.'

Blaine's eyes jumped to capture his, something burning behind them that Kurt hadn't seen in a long time. 'Do you mean that-'

'Yes, Blaine. Yes, I do.' Kurt sighed, running his fingers along his brow softly. 'You haven't lost your cluelessness, have you?'

Blaine shook his head with a chuckle. 'I guess not.'

'Do you ever.' Kurt asked, examining his fingernails. The ends had quickly become torn and mattered over the past few hours, and the raw pink ends glared at him like beacons of his loss. 'Think about what it would have been like for us if I hadn't pushed you away?'

Blaine smiled a grim smile and held out his hand for Kurt's. 'All the time.'

'What do you see?' He gripped the older boy's hand tightly, urging him to speak.

'Well, I saw us at college. We would have been at different schools. You at Harvard. Me at Julliard. I would have taken every spare minute to visit you. I saw myself barging in on your lecture about costuming just because it was our five year anniversary, and the professor would let me sit in because I refused to leave your side.

'And then we would graduate, and I would have my degree in music production and I'd start working on your breakthrough album in my spare time, and you would be starring in every Broadway show imaginable, except for maybe the Lion King, though I'm sure you could really pull off Timon. We'd be living in a penthouse apartment, and I'd come to all your shows and bring you flowers, and then on our tenth anniversary, after some fights and make ups, and when we know we can survive a million more, I would come out before one of your shows and ask you to marry me. You'd tell me it was coercion, having the crowd there, but you'd say yes anyway.' He glanced at Kurt. The younger man's face was filled with surprise but his lips were curling up at the corners. 'Do you want me to continue?'

Kurt almost laughed, but his eyes were solemn and sincere when he whispered, 'Were you really going to marry me?'

'Of course. I've never imagined myself with anyone else. Except maybe Johnny Depp,' he said, playfully nudging Kurt's side. 'But we both know that would never happen.'

'You're too dapper for Johnny Depp,' Kurt agreed and he laughed, relaxing truly for the first time since he left Ethan's. 'Come on, help me make up the couch,' he said.

Blaine's laughter stopped suddenly and he looked at Kurt, their fingers still tightly entwined together. It felt like a lifeline to Blaine. 'You don't have to sleep on the couch.'

'There's only one bed.'

'You can sleep with me... I mean, next to me. I wouldn't mind. The couch probably has a horrible mattress, and I don't want you to be uncomforta-'

'I'll be fine on the couch, Blaine.' He squeezed his hand once before letting go and standing up. Together, in silence, they pulled out the couch and set it with sheets and pillows.

'Are you sure you'll be alright out here?' Blaine asked once again.

'I'll be perfectly fine.'

It was then that the doorbell rang and the pizza was delivered. Blaine paid and tipped the delivery man and they sat down on the floor to eat, their feet crossed beneath them.

'I feel bad because all we've eaten today is pizza,' Blaine said, leaning back on his arms after replacing the last uneaten crust in the box.

'It's Sarengetti's. It doesn't matter how often you eat it.' Kurt was grinning and Blaine couldn't help but notice the way he glowed in the muted lamplight.

'I love you,' he whispered, and it was meant for his ears only, but Kurt's smile faltered and he breathed in a sharp breath. Their eyes caught and in a rush, Kurt stood up, closing the pizza box and holding it between his hands.

'I'm feeling kind of tired,' he said. 'It's getting late and we have to go to the theatre in the morning.'

Blaine nodded, his eyes dark. 'Goodnight, Kurt,' he murmured and slipped backwards into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Kurt let out a shaky breath and leaned against the wall.

He pulled off his shirt, tossing it roughly onto his pile of belongings. He dug through, finding a pair of flannel pants and changed. When he slipped under the sheets of the couch, the hotel apartment was silent. All he could hear was Blaine's steady and even breathing, but he couldn't sleep.

_I love you._

In a half daze he stood up, silently opening the door to Blaine's room. The man was curled on his side, curls gently framing his face. The dark lines were gone from his features and all that was left was peace.

Kurt stepped to the bed, slipping silently under the covers. Blaine stirred and moved slightly, but he was still asleep as he rested his arm around Kurt's waist, tugging him unconsciously closer.

The arm was warm and heavy, but the feel of Blaine's body behind him, the familiar position of security, comforted Kurt.

'I love you too, Blaine,' he whispered. And there, in Blaine's arms, he fell quickly asleep.

* * *

><p>Blaine awoke to the sound of the alarm beside his bed buzzing incessantly. He groaned, curling tighter in towards himself. His arms caught smooth skin and he blinked, rolling over suddenly and letting go of the figure that was curled in his bed.<p>

'Kurt?' he breathed, half to himself as the figure rolled over, frowning in a half awake state.

'Is it morning already, Blaine? But I was so comfortable.' The man blinked twice before opening his eyes properly and looking at Blaine. 'Blaine.'

'I thought you were sleeping on the couch,' Blaine managed to say without faltering. He stepped backwards, catching the door handle in his hand and turning it softly behind his back. 'I mean, it's not a bad thing, but I thought you were-'

Kurt shook his head quickly and stood up, holding his hand to his head as the blood rushed there. He pressed his palms into his eyes as he stepped across to Blaine. The older man could only watch, dumbstruck. The familiar sight was breathtaking. The smooth planes of Kurt's chest, the silky alabaster of his skin. Blaine desperately wanted to reach out and touch it.

'I couldn't sleep,' Kurt said finally when he was two feet away from Blaine.

'I told you the sofa would be uncomfortable.'

The younger man bit his lip. 'You also told me you loved me.'

Blaine sighed, almost to himself. 'You weren't supposed to hear that, okay?' He turned the knob of the door fully and stepped out into the living room of the hotel suite, turning his back on Kurt. He grabbed the empty pizza box off the floor and brought it with him into the kitchen, throwing it roughly into the trash can. Then he grabbed a cup from one of the drawers and placed it under the coffee machine.

'But I did.'

Blaine sighed heavily turning back towards him and leaning against the island. 'So I said I love you. What does that matter?'

Kurt gritted his teeth, running his tongue along the back of them. 'It matters, Blaine! It means that you still have feelings for me, and even though you'd said as much, I still wasn't sure if you really meant it! Maybe you'd just convinced yourself? I don't know!' He ran his hand angrily through his hair. 'But when I heard you say that, it was the same as the first time, at the Lima Bean. It was exactly the same, Blaine, and I knew you weren't just kidding yourself when you said that.'

Blaine chewed at the inside of his cheek, watching Kurt as he stood there, awkwardly shuffling his feet. 'And you came into my room, after I was asleep?'

'I don't know why I did it.'

'But you _did _do it? I didn't just dream the last ten minutes?'

Kurt shook his head. 'No, you didn't. Unless I dreamed it too.' The younger man stepped closer, holding his hand out. Blaine took it cautiously. 'I know it's soon, and you probably don't want to be the rebound man but-'

There was a buzz, and Blaine released Kurt's hand like it was on fire, stepping across to his cellphone that was resting on the corner table. 'Hello?'

'Blaine, hey!' It was Marcus, his voice loud and boisterous. 'Hey, where are you? We start in ten minutes, and they wanted to talk to you about a new casting decision. How long are you going to be?'

Blaine glanced across the room to Kurt, eyeing him carefully. 'I'll be there in ten.' And he hung up the phone.

'I'm taking a shower,' he muttered, and stepped into the bathroom.

* * *

><p><strong>So hello lovely readers. Yes, I guess this chapter is a little shorter, and has been a long time coming, but my plot bunnies went crazy over my Mortal Instruments fanfiction I'm writing, and a couple of new Harry Potter fics (in celebration of the new movie), so this got kind of shoved to the sidelines for a little while. But here it is, the new chapter! Personally, I feel that Blaine and Kurt are moving waaaaay to fast, but this story was only ever planned to go for about fifteen chapters, so we're about halfway there! Not much longer and they'll probably be doing the horizontal tango... I'm only joking I could never write that! But yes, hopefully there will be more soon :) And feel free to send me PMs to pressure me to write more! It will be muchly appreciated :D<strong>

**Love you all!**

**xxx Wynnie**


	10. Chapter Nine: Cursed

**So, I know I've been missing for a while. You all hate me, don't you! :P Admit it, my laziness and lack of posting has gotten to you, and I'm incredibly incredibly sorry! This chapter did NOT want to be written, and there were so many other ideas, and musicals to watch (just finished Starship... Brian Holden in Darren's glasses makes me think he's quite supermegafoxyawesomehot... maybe its something to do with the glasses) and homework to do, and Harry Potter books to read that I never managed to get time to really sit down and make this work. And then I sat down tonight and did it. So here it is! And a Harry Potter reference in there, for all those of you that I know are fans! :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Cursed<strong>

The theatre was already filled with hopeful auditioners when Kurt and Blaine arrived, Blaine waiting five minutes after Kurt had entered to walk in on the younger man's request. Glancing around the room, it was clear that this day was dedicated to filling the parts of the lesser characters. Each young actor and actress with hopeful smiles was of a different breed: some were tall and skinny, some short and squat, and more importantly, some were female and some were male.

'Blaine!' Marcus was beckoning to him anxiously and he made his quickly to the directors bench, settling down between Kurt and the same producer from their last casting session. 'At least you're only a minute late this time!'

Blaine smiled grimly and leaned back in his chair, pressing his palms to his eyes to alleviate the pressure that was already building there. Before he'd come to New York, he hadn't realised how much hard work and long hours were put into organising a production. Or how much stress.

'And now, Blaine, I want to introduce you to the guy playing Everett,' Marcus was saying when Blaine tuned back in. He could feel Kurt stiffen beside him, and he nodded once before searching the room for the mop of brown hair that he'd specifically requested.

'Blaine, this is Ethan,' Marcus said, and from seemingly behind his back he pulled a grinning young man, who ran his hand through his hair roughly before holding it out to Blaine. 'Nice to _finally _meet you,' he said, putting an unpleasant malice on the word. 'I've heard so much about you.'

His eyes flickered once to Kurt, but the pale skinned man was bent under the table rummaging in his bag for some imaginary something.

'Glad to have you on board,' Blaine said forcefully, shaking the man's hand with an over tight grip before nodding curtly and looking away. Ethan smiled slightly, the kind of smile that spoke of accomplishment, before he stepped away towards the edge of the stage where a woman with a bottle of hair gel in her hand was motioning to him.

'What a nice guy, eh, Blaine?' Marcus asked. Blaine shook his head, trying to dislodge his thoughts in the same motion.

'Oh yeah. Really nice.' But his attention had been caught by Kurt, whose face and ears were a vibrant red. 'Didn't bother mentioning he'd got the part of _me?' _he asked in a hushed whisper. 'Didn't mention he could _act, _at that.'

Kurt pursed his lips. 'I was hoping I'd dreamed it.'

'Yeah, well I think the walking talking ex-boyfriend discards that theory.'

The younger man scowled and looked forward, resolutely ignoring Blaine. Slowly but surely, actors passed across the stage, and he tried to watch each one. But there was always that constant voice in the back of his head, asking him _why _Kurt's ex had fought for the part. What was he expecting to gain from it? He was the one who had demanded Kurt leave his house, so he definitely wasn't wanting him back.

The only conclusion Blaine could think of was that he wanted revenge. And not revenge on Kurt. Revenge on _Blaine. _Because he would be standing there, on that stage, saying every flirty line he'd ever whispered to Kurt during their high school years, every awkward and blissful moment they'd been through.

'What a bastard,' he whispered through gritted teeth, and Kurt turned his head, eyebrows raised.

'What?'

'I said "what a bastard".'

Kurt almost laughed. 'About Ethan I presume? You look your mulling it over as much as I am.'

'Mulling it over?' Blaine snorted. 'More like going insane with worry, and concern, and anger and all other ranges of emotion that I should not be feeling right now.'

'What should you be feeling right now?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. Happiness? I'm in New York, watching my own musical get put onto Broadway. I'm finally getting credit for my work and I have you... living with me, I mean.' He stumbled over the words in a rush to get them out and pretend that he'd meant to have them there all along.

Kurt smiled sadly, but Blaine guessed that he was a lot more knowing than he let on. 'Well, we've always known my luck was down the plughole.'

'What do you mean?' Blaine's dark eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

'Well, it took so long to get you, back in high school. And then I let you slip through my fingers at college. And since then I've spent years trying to get any kind of real part here. I'm cursed, I'm sure of it.' He let out a small laugh. 'Don't deny it, Blaine.'

Blaine bit his lip, because that was exactly what he was about to do. 'How about all the good times?' he said gently instead.

'They are beautiful and numerous in number, but clearly, they don't last. I should have known it when I was in preschool and Harper DeLuca stole my painting and passed it off as her own. I was doomed for failure.'

'Harper DeLuca? She didn't transfer did she? Because I swear I knew a Harper DeLuca at Westerville High who had a thing for stealing peoples lunch money. Big hunk of a girl, she was.'

Kurt grinned. 'That would be the one. She'd almost put pre-Puckerman-Lauren Zizes to shame, and that's saying something.'

'True, true,' Blaine laughed along with him. There was something almost... peaceable... about talking about their past.

And then it was blown. 'Hey, Mr Anderson,' the slick voice was asking, and Ethan sidled up to the desk as the last of the mornings actors slunk off the stage. 'I just wanted to ask you about some of the content. Because I don't understand how the character of Everett could really ask out Mark over the body of a dead bird. Isn't that a little tactless.'

He was staring at Kurt as he said it, daring him to speak up and defend the action, but Kurt was ducking his head and averting his eyes. Menacingly, Blaine leant forward until he was close enough to his lookalike that the producers wouldn't hear him.

'Sure, you may look a little bit like me, and you may have gotten the part of Everett, but there is _no way _you can harass me or Kurt.'

'What are you gonna do? Kick me off the production?'

'I can and I will.'

But Ethan was smirking. 'If you kick me off, who's going to play the part of Everett.'

* * *

><p>The hotel room was filled with a stony silence. Kurt was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the blank TV screen. His hands were held tightly against each other in his lap and his jaw was clenched as if he was desperately trying to hold words in.<p>

On the other side of the room, Blaine was pacing. Three turns of the room, then a glance at Kurt, then a glance at the clock. Another three turns of the room.

'Will you stop pacing!' Kurt finally growled, turning around to face him. 'You're making me edgy!'

'_You're_ making _me_ edgy!' Blaine stopped so he was facing him and ran his hand roughly through his hair. 'You haven't spoken a word since we got back, you just sit there in stony silence. Yes, Ethan is a douche-bag, but that's no reason to ignore _me.' _He frowned at the whine in his own voice and started pacing again, letting the muffled pounding of his feet echo dully in his brain.

'Well, you can't say you've done much to alleviate the silence.'

Blaine scowled. 'I've learnt since we were seventeen that if you're silent, you normally want to stay that way. It's how I've avoided many a pointless argument.'

'So why start now?'

Blaine winced at the anger in Kurt's voice and stopped pacing, stepping across to the sofa and leaning against the back of it in a way he hoped was forceful. 'He's changed you more than you let on,' he whispered into the pale, porcelain ear. 'You're less gentle, less innocent. You've lost your joyful nature. He's sapped it from you.'

'I have not-' Kurt went to argue, but Blaine was leaning over to press a finger to his lips, silencing him.

'I saw the real you when you took me around the city. That's the Kurt I know, not this Kurt. You're not moody and sullen and afraid. You're the bravest person I know.' Gently, with the slightest of pressures and the shake of hesitancy, he ran his forefinger along the length of Kurt's lip, brushing his thumb along his jawline. 'Let me in,' he whispered.

'I can't. Not again.'

'Why not? The first time was a mistake. Let's redeem it.'

'I don't want you to be my rebound.'

'I'm not your rebound. He was your rebound. I'm just plain old handsome.'

Kurt cracked a smile then, and Blaine returned it, letting his fingers graze softly along the planes of Kurt's neck, more comfortable now that the younger man hadn't pulled away.

'I don't want to get hurt again.'

'I'll never hurt you, Kurt.'

'I'm cursed.'

'And I'm Bill Weasley. It's my job to break curses.'

And with that simple phrase, Kurt was laughing and leaning forward, letting Blaine's hand slide around to the back of his neck and pull him closer so Blaine could press their lips together hard, reveling in the feeling of skin on warm skin.

* * *

><p><strong>So yes. Another Klaine kissy time. Which I thought we needed, because I love them so much! And more evil!Ethan... because even though I do care for him quite a bit, I'm beginning to see where he is a jerkface! :D I hope you all enjoyed this and to all those who review, you are so very lovely! Klaine klisses for you all! To all those in times of trouble right now (and forever) take care! Our hearts are with you! <strong>

**And now I go back to Deathly Hallows... My inner nerd takes over!**

**xxx**

**Love you all!**

**Wynnie**


	11. Chapter Ten: Action

**So, yeah. It's amazing. Officially. I have actually updated! It seems so long! My main problem with this little baby was that I wasn't sure what the plot was heading to, so it kind of just... floated which I didn't like. It's shorter than most of the other chapters, but I thought I'd better update! Hopefully the next one will be up soon! (don't trust me on that though. I think I said that last time!). See you at the end!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Action<strong>

When Kurt woke up, his mind was oddly at peace. Warm hands circled his waist, holding him close to a firm body. Despite the peace of his mind, there was a sharp pain in his side and he sat up, rubbing his hip to release the tension.

'Kurt?' a voice mumbled from behind him and he swiveled to face Blaine, whose arms pulled tighter around him, pulling him back towards the man.

'The couch is uncomfortable, Blaine,' he said, removing the arm. 'I'm going to get up and make breakfast, okay?'

The older man whined but released Kurt. They were still in their clothes from the day before, having fallen asleep watching a late show of Rocky Horror on pay-per-view. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he could remember Blaine's fumbling fingers as they desperately reached for his skin.

'I missed you,' the voice said from the sofa, suddenly much more lucid as Blaine pulled himself up against the back to look at Kurt. 'During those years I mean.' He smiled. 'I'm already thinking of them as _those years. _Is that wrong?'

'Very wrong,' Kurt replied, but there was laughter in his voice as he pulled a loaf of bread from the pantry, sliding two slices into the toaster.

'I'm serious though,' he said. 'I told you I never went out with anyone else.'

'So, are you telling me you missed the action?'

'No, no no no no!' He shook his hands out in front of him as if that might remove the idea from Kurt's mind. 'But it definitely wasn't a negative in the grand scheme of our relationship. It _was _rather fabulous.' He paused, smiling. '_You _were fabulous.'

Kurt grinned over his shoulder as he pulled jam from the fridge. 'As far as you know, I still am.'

At his words, Blaine's eyes went dark. His feet found the ground and he stood up, making his way towards Kurt and snaking his arms around his lean waist. The breath caught in the younger man's throat and he leaned backwards into Blaine.

'I want to rectify that.'

'What?' Kurt asked lazily. 'My fabulousness?'

'No,' he replied, his voice dark. 'The bit about me not knowing.' He pressed his lips against the curve of Kurt's neck, toying with the smooth skin. Kurt's knees buckled beneath his touch, and he cursed himself for the way that Blaine could always make him feel.

'I can't,' he whispered.

'Why not?'

'Because there are enough royal screw-ups in my life at the moment. I don't need another one.'

'Didn't we go over this last night? I don't _care!' _ Blaine leaned back, gripping the counter in his hands and scowling.

'If you truly want me, maybe you should.' And Kurt stepped away, taking his toast with him and movie towards the dining table. 'Show me your play.'

'Huh?' It seemed like such an abrupt change of conversation that Blaine didn't know what to say.

'Background Music. Show me the script. I've only seen bits and pieces and I want to check what scenes you've put in. I don't want Ethan surprising me on stage with something I'm not ready for.'

Blaine tried to run over the play in his mind, searching for any scene that might raise alarm bells and fell upon one scene from their last year at high school. 'There...' he said slowly, drawing out the sentence, 'might possibly be a rather heated... um... kiss scene.'

'WHAT?'

'Um, you know that day in senior year when we went camping with New Directions, and while we were sleeping, they all packed up and left?'

'Yes..?' Kurt replied cautiously.

'Well, that was a great day for me, and I hope it was for you too, but, well, maybe I included the hour we spent before they came back for us.' He grinned sheepishly. 'I mean, I cut it down to five minutes, and that includes talking, but still. It's there.'

Kurt's eyebrows sky-rocketed, landing somewhere near his hairline. 'You wrote a scene that primarily involved you and I making out?'

'Well, yeah. I didn't expect you to be playing the role though. Or an asshole like Ethan playing me.'

'Well, none of us really got what we expected these past few weeks, have we, Blaine? I got kicked out of my apartment, I got stuck here with you, and I've just learned that I will have to kiss my ex-boyfriend - with _tongue, _I presume - on stage for every night this stupid musical of yours is showing!'

'Stuck here with me?'

Kurt rolled his eyes, but the edge of his anger was fading already and he took a bite of his toast, chewing it thoughtfully. 'You really considered that day important enough to stick in your stupid play?'

Blaine grinned. 'It _was _a pretty fabulous day.'

'Yeah,' Kurt murmured. 'It was.' He looked up, catching Blaine's eye. 'I didn't mean what I said about being stuck here with you,' he said. 'Even though its only a hotel, and it's only temporary until you leave to head back to LA, there's nobody else I'd rather spend the time with.'

'So does this mean I get the action I want?'

And Kurt laughed, leaning back in his chair. 'If the work day goes well, you never know.'

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces and meagre auditions. It was the last day of casting, and it was filling primarily background roles like the chorus and people that had one or two lines. Most of the actors were bearable, but their attempts to perform rock songs and 80s pop nearly always ended with the directors waving their hands and telling them to hang by the phone, that they'd get a call.<p>

Ethan, thankfully, had been absent. He'd called in sick, which Kurt had whispered to Blaine was hard to believe. He wasn't needed, however, and there was no reason to slow down the casting because he wasn't there.

Exiting the theatre at the end of the day, Blaine grabbed Kurt by the arm, pulling him out of the way of the main doors and leaning against the brick wall casually. 'Up for a night out on the town?'

'If by a night out you mean dinner at an upscale restaurant and then back to your place for a good eight hours of sleep, then sure, I'm up for a night out on the town.' Kurt grinned, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder and holding out his hand for Blaine to take. 'Shall we?'

The dark haired man laughed in response. 'Sure.'

And Kurt held out his arm, motioning for a taxi which took them to the other side of the city, to a secret restaurant Kurt had heard much about but never visited. Needless to say, neither of them got the alloted eight hours of sleep that night.

* * *

><p><strong>So before you ask, no I'm not going into any more details about their night! :P The next chapter will start the next morning. This such a sucky chapter, I'm not sure if any of you will want to continue after this disaster, but I hope it will start picking up soon! Also, if anybody noticed, there is the possibility of smutty-ness at the end of this chapter. I'm horrible at writing smut (comes from lack of experience) but I'm giving it a shot in my free time, and if it works alright, I'll post it on tumblr or something and if you're sneaky enough (and follow me: wynniethepoohlove) you might spot it there. Or maybe on my account at Scarves &amp; Coffee (same name as on here). Somewhere different. Keep your eyes peeled :P Like a banana!<strong>

**Love you all! xxx Wynnie**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Tanya

**Wow, this one has so much dialogue! And YAY I got it finished quite speedily! I found it writing it really fun, because I absolutely adore writing the dialogue between Blaine and the person whose name features as the title of this chapter :P I hope you find it as amusing as I aimed for it to be :P Let me know if it doesn't get across! And enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Tanya<strong>

It seemed that waking up in interesting places was becoming a habit for Kurt Hummel. His eyes fluttered open, slightly gummy with sleep, and fell upon the smooth skin of a tanned back. The man was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Kurt could see the edge of a guitar that rested on his knee.

He reached out, pressing his fingers against the smooth skin and scooted closer to place a kiss to it.

'Good morning,' Blaine said lightly, his body moving with the vibrations of it. His fingers picked notes from the guitar, playing out a little melody and Kurt listened, moaning a response.

'Morning.'

'You sound like you've been hit over the head by a gorilla.'

'Accurate statement.' Kurt grinned, sliding an arm around Blaine's naked waist and using him to pull himself into a sitting position. 'I think my sleep schedule was cut short by a few hours. When do we need to be in at the theatre?'

Blaine shook his head immediately. 'Marcus called. We have a day off. The producers are gathering to talk about the final casting options and they wanted me there, but I said I was busy.'

'Busy strumming a guitar?'

'Very.' He turned his head to look Kurt in the eye. 'Actually, my excuse was entertaining guests.'

'Is that what I am now? A guest?'

'No,' he said, laying down the guitar and turning completely so they were face to face. 'You're much more than just a guest.' He pressed a warm kiss to his lips, one hand reaching out to lay on Kurt's cheek, the other supporting himself against the mattress.

He was about to slide his tongue into the confines of the other man's mouth when the doorbell rang.

'Shit,' he groaned, pulling away.

'Who would be here? Who knows where you're staying?'

Kurt was stepping back off the bed, reaching for the suitcase beside it in which he'd managed to cut down the bare essentials of clothing. He pulled on underwear and a pair of sweatpants and followed Blaine - who had also rushed to clothe himself somewhat - out the door of the bedroom.

'Who is it?' Blaine called out, stepping towards the door.

It was a particularly feminine voice that replied, 'You'll see!'

'Tanya?'

Kurt raised his eyebrows at Blaine, who mouthed in response, _My roommate._

'Yes, Blaine! Who else would it be?'

Blaine bit his lip and reached forward to pull open the door. 'We weren't really sure.'

'WE?' And Tanya was bounding into the room, wrapping her arms around Blaine's neck to pull him into a tight hug, while surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder at Kurt. Her eyes were wide and she ran them up and down his still shirtless body.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

'Kurt, this is Tanya,' Blaine said, wriggling out of his roommate's grasp. 'Tanya, Kurt.'

'Oh, hey.' Tanya held out a hand for Kurt to shake and he took it cautiously. 'So I have a few questions for you, which I've been dying to ask ever since Blaine let slip that he asked you out over a dead bird.' She grinned, her hands making elaborately motions through the air as she talked. 'Number one: Did you find that at all romantic? Because I don't see how professing his love over a dead bird can be at _all _romantic. And number two: Are you sleeping together now?'

Kurt's jaw dropped. Blaine didn't blame him. His chin had hit the ground somewhere in the past few seconds too. 'Tanya!' he said, grabbing her by the shoulder. 'Have you lost all tact?'

The blonde nodded, leaning back against Blaine. 'Well, I have just got off a red-eye flight from LA to New York. I have a right to be tired and insane.'

Blaine groaned and pushed her off him, leading her to the couch. 'I'm sorry about her,' he whispered to Kurt as they passed. 'She gets a little like this sometimes.'

'Like what? Interfering?'

'Oh, no. She's always interfering.' He pushed Tanya onto the couch, still holding her by the shoulders. She looked up at him with eyes that glowed despite the dark shadows beneath them. 'Okay, let's take this slowly, Tan. And let me ask a few questions first.' She nodded. 'Why are you here?'

That brought a slight frown to her face. 'Well, Harry broke up with me, even though he said it would only be a break-'

'Don't give up on him.'

Blaine's head spun at Kurt's interjection.

'Why not?' Tanya asked, looking in Kurt's direction. 'You did.'

'Yeah, and I regret it. You shouldn't have to regret things. Just give him a chance to explain.'

Blaine smiled, mouthing a silent thank you to Kurt and hoping he could communicate how much that meant to him through his eyes. 'Continue,' he said, motioning to Tanya.

'And then I was wondering how you were doing, and I had a bit of extra cash lying around so I thought, why should I call you when I can come see you in person. Plus, I wanted to get my eyes on Kurt in the flesh, to see if you were exaggerating.'

'And was I exaggerating?' Blaine asked, exasperated.

'Not at all.'

'Good. Now what did you want to ask?'

'Kurt,' she said, turning on the sofa so she was facing him. 'I have to know. How romantic is it, getting asked out over the casket of a dead canary?'

'Well,' he said slowly. 'Pavarotti - that was the bird - was actually in my freezer, so it was really only a bejeweller and a painted cardboard box.'

'And a ton of rhinestones,' Blaine added.

'Oh, I can remember pulling them out of my socks for a week!' The two of them laughed, Kurt shifting closer towards Blaine and leaning his head against his shoulder. He turned to Tanya, a smile on his face. 'So, yeah, it was kind of romantic, seeing as I'd been pining after him for months, and even though I'd told him explicitly, he still didn't seem to get it.'

Blaine shook his head. 'You told me you thought I wanted to sing that stupid song for you. Not that you liked me.'

'Your powers of deduction still amaze me, Blaine. You're so clueless sometimes.' He wrapped an arm around his waist.

'You loved it though.'

'Not when you sang to Jeremiah, I didn't! But I did like it when you came to your senses.'

'Hello!' Tanya said, waving a hand. 'I'm still here you know. And I have another question.'

'Yes?' Kurt raised an eyebrow.

'Are you doing the dirty?'

He frowned, turning to Blaine. 'She has a poignant way of putting things, doesn't she?'

'Very.' But he was blushing, his tanned skin tinged with pink.

'You didn't answer my question,' she spoke up.

Kurt bit his lip, watching Blaine, who turned slowly to face his roommate. 'Yes.'

'Yes, you didn't answer my question, or yes, you're doing the dirty.'

'Yes.'

'Argh!' Tanya groaned, leaning back against the edge of the couch. 'Whatever! Can I crash here for a few days?'

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was frowning. But he couldn't say no to a friend in need, not when he'd let Kurt so readily stay with him. 'You can't afford a hotel?' he hinted.

'Not at the last minute. You know they always bump the prices when they can tell you're desperate.' She smiled hopefully. 'I'll sleep on the couch. I'll cook.'

Blaine turned to Kurt. 'She does cook a mean chicken curry.' He turned back to the woman. 'Fine, you can stay. You _will _be sleeping on the couch. If we're out of the hotel, you are also. We're not giving you a keycard. I trust you wholeheartedly, Tanya, but its not only me living here now, so I have to put Kurt's feelings at the top of the list.'

She nodded, holding her hand out. 'We'll shake on it.'

'God, Tanya. We don't need to shake. We're friends. You just have to convince Kurt that you're not _all _obnoxious comments.'

'What are you saying, Blaine? That I don't care for you?'

'No,' he said, laughing as he stepped away from Kurt and the couch to grab Tanya's bags from the door. 'I'm saying you can easily come across as a mighty large bitch if you don't at least _try _to be nice. And Kurt's a good person.'

The man in question smiled hopefully. Tanya gave him another look over and nodded. 'You're alright, Mr Hummel.'

'Thank you,' he nodded.

And like that, the three of them fell into comfortable conversation, Tanya talking about her flight and the state of things in LA, and Blaine and Kurt talking about the production, and the bustling city that was New York.

* * *

><p><strong>Hopefully, next chapter we'll get into a bit more angsty stuff. This was just a fun filler chapter because I wanted to include Tanya back into it, and she will become somewhat important in the near future. Rehearsals are coming up, and I hope they're going to be exciting! :D<strong>


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